Flux as tide
Covering a few more inches
Return of the red-tailed hawk, white egret
How beautiful on a winters afternoon
Even the crisp outline of factories
Towers, scaffolding, tanks
Spheres, squares, triangles, circles
Or a Greek philosopher
Reclining propped on one arm;
The philosophy teacher erases the white board
With her wrist;
The word agape
In hierarchy with eros.
The tea house woman
Told the monk
Show me this self that is hungry
And Ill give you cakes.
Sometimes it is so still
Each reed casts a reflection
The mathematics of this cold light.