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Waste of hardened streets ...

the autumn leaf

searches.

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In his coffee

the face has no chin

... no answers.

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Answers

for the taking

in fallen summer leaves.

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More ...

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Seeping from the wind

a sparrow taking in

the more that comes

it comes, come more

come ...

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This quit, this fold

this quiet of the night

... I can never find.

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Questions at sunrise
a poplar beginning my day
... of reaching.

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In creasing hands
she's still searching
... that one search.

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Into night, under rains
to seek what can, and feel
... what must.

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Just one ...
one just day without blunt
... without sink.

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(Inspired by Laetitia at Flickr)

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In the folds
unsettled, perhaps
... that very answer.

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Layer
always giving to more -
lust for the peel ...

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