
What’s the point of life
if you’re lighting others’ paths
yet not lighthearted?

What’s the point of life
if you’re lighting others’ paths
yet not lighthearted?

Weekend getaway;
driving into the sunset,
missing the exit.

Crisp autumn morning:
city under construction—
all cranes hail the sun.

Wind scattering clouds,
like dancing stick figurines—
bony-limbed old tree.