by James Woodham
comb your hair with wind
let the hills flow through your eyes
sun adorn your skin
wind on the water
wind in my hair and the crow’s
hollow notes dropping
sun warm on the skin
ears full of the mountain stream
breathing the blue sky
to be free of now
as a bird takes to the air
the future floating
as the mountains wait
for whatever comes along
sun wind rain blue sky
standing on the sand
for about a hundred years
to be a pine tree
my wife leaves some food
each day before her parents’ bones
graced with a greeting
under buddha’s eyes
tiers of fruit are perfect worlds
of shining surface
priest chanting sutras
endless drone of syllable –
aural opium
these Kyoto streets –
walking down them half my life
always stuck in time
rings in the puddle
everyone who ever lived
raindrops vanishing
two butterflies hanging
on the gently nodding plant
in a swoon of wings
standing in the road
with its beak slightly open
crow seems to question
wings blur the vision
hovering at the flower
hummingbird hawk moth
no way you can know
you’re born to be a butterfly
fat caterpillar
the sky cloud-muffled
a cat gives us a long look
from a safe distance
klansman clad in black
disdaining shows of colour
crow knows he’s stronger
as a tree waits
for the leaves of spring to come
so a poem words
no finer music –
the speech of leaves in the breeze
birdsong travelling
sharpness of shadow
on the rock a leaf lifted
from a Chinese scroll
old man puffing away
as he strolls along wreathed
in smoke’s sweetness
how the snow blankets
the mind, muffling and making
a nest of the home
bamboo bent double
with the weight of all that white
head buried in it
points of light glitter
wind skimming the pond’s surface –
March superficial
pale shafts of sunlight
birdsong calibrates the air
the trees cathedral
waves leave glistening
in the caverns of the ear
desultory lapping
no thought of waste here
sun adheres to every leaf –
golden plenitude
along the moonlit lane
shrilling of the bell cricket –
silver audible
cool wind off the hills
slides ripples through the silver
pathway of the sun
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For previous contributions by James Woodham, please see the striking poems and stunning photography here. Or here. Or here. Or here. For his previous posting, A Single Thread, see here, and for The Wind’s Word click here.