the wild violets
in the early morning light
give secret fragrance

each step taken leads deeper
into that forest of green

where shadows are cast
by newly unfolding leaves
that herald the night

drumming on a fallen log
ruffed grouse calling for its mate

as I watch the moon
in the now darkening sky
where soon stars shall meet

one by one each cricket sounds
next voices rising louder

my little friends
do you regret the passage
of this time and hope?

too soon the leaves that remain
will be taken by the wind

the wild gales that sweep
the far mountain peak's black crags
blind the flash of fate

binding in and out of time
an embroidery of dreams

so fragile these threads
as hoar frost in winter floods
melts in sunlit flow

only in this surrender
can the rain become the sea

what is now from then
can there be no constancy
in our life and love?

at the break of dawn each day
signatures of fix'd stars stay

the forward sun
lifts mists from valleys
where the flowers bloom

so too the lone swan drifts
past the verdant river bank

in the distance I
see her fair form by the edge
on that summer's day

two white lilies leave her hand
to rush in deep current's strength

are these as our lives
so frail in destiny's flow
buffeted by chance?

when leaves and needles fall
a rich knit of deep design

where is this great plan?
not in jealous fate but us
reason's dart and weave!

in cupp'd hands the mirror'd moon
pools shimmering as in dreams

the cascading falls
the sounds in distant gorges
ringing in my ears

here and there the hermit thrush
clear, fluted notes on a breeze

that sweet melody
moves the thinker from his thoughts
summer songs in youth

mornings gather stillness
like berries off the road

and mauve flowers bloom
where once lovers stained lips red
with succulent fruits

so the traveler rested
lonely for a lamp-lit room

where in solitude
the memory of lost love
saddens autumn dusk

while the gate where you once stood
is moss grown and tangled shut

and rank grasses hide
those paths we walk'd you and I
guided by the moon

with me always will remain
these memories bitter-sweet

some of fragrant nights
and others of waiting days
when briars tore my heart

still, I would not change a thing
does the Mayfly mourn its day?

or fallen petals
envy fruit or rivers seas
in this reason'd life?

yet, it is the heart which knows
what the mind cannot admit

the real and unreal
what fine line within the mind
should mark dreams apart?

leaves carry the moth's absence
as sure as light carries weight

traces of the past
link us all to the future
none can exist alone

is not this tapestry, love,
our richly sewn legacy?

willing human minds
weave this pattern as spring's surge
enriches the earth

the air, awash with lilac,
as warm as the blood in veins

the wide blue oceans
teem with life and deep waves move
to far golden shores

tides that are called by the moon
like a name called in the night

the cold wind in pines
whispering as if in dreams
intense thoughts of love

what is it, what is the heart:
Ikkyu's painted pine breeze

not instants of time
in ink but truly lasting
window of the soul

that space which lets the light in
will fill the room with the world

so spring captures hope
truth and reason shape the skein
casting out the void

then turn after turn again
life after life unfolding