that one meadow

where to dream is to die for

is just over there

 a long journey 

taking me to everywhere

except home

 sunday commute

counting the railway sleepers

with a hangover

 between here

and the mist

a boat

 washing my feet

my shadow startled me

i am getting old

 an important job 

watering the hanging baskets

across the city

 spring rain

so much sweeter

every year

 catching one

the butterfly hunter

looks for another

~

budha 

when a butterfly alights

looks at it 

 the poet

as a heron waiting 

for gotcha 

 seaside

exchanging something

for something

 adieu adieu

when the tears have dried

rime remains

 walking to the sea 

waiting upon my return

the lanterns of hope