
A sea of roses
at the top of their careers
waiting to be picked.

A sea of roses
at the top of their careers
waiting to be picked.

The city is still,
from ashes branches protrude
bare from winter’s bite.

Teetering on edge:
moving to a new country;
jumping off a cliff.

Hanging out at sea—
grounded but head in the clouds,
boats live the zen life.

Soaking up the sun,
poppy springs into action:
my garden blossoms.