if I with a bookI am happy, he knows this.he can read that silent poetry.
I meet you like a readerbut when I write I am just a seeker.
An American Haiku
Father’s Day — my daughter reachesfor another book
Hushed at wake of dawnbirds sing songs, the trees whisper with…
still — too many booksI have yet to read
brilliantly prettyirrelevance of old ageon her wanderings