Symphony

Night waves crash into foam silence

Ebb tide sings invisible musical interlude

How it feels after Kampot cement, cycles, horns,

Symphonies of process down all the days

Winging free swiftlets sky

The sea churned all day

Blue green

Fragments of gray blue clouds cover a thin horizon line

Near horizon it was purple

Silver ran inland to meet green blue floating waves

Energy flows toward white brown sand rolling energy

Created banks of white waves

Whitecaps roll tumble crash curl wearing atoms and molecules

A gentle mixture of force and calm eases into sand land

A band of sunset pink tongued with purple sails west into high cumulus

Beach town quiet

Growing empty at May’s end

Long mass of gray clouds dances on horizon

Light fades as swimmers run jump dive into waves

Beach walkers stare inland

Their eyes are lost if they see sea

It’s too much to comprehend

Too vast

Too immense beautiful and complete

Clouds gather mass

Rain song

Waves curl dance

Empty beach

Sandcastles

Meditation

In dreams begin responsibility – W.B. Yeats

*

Grow Your Soul - Poems from Laos & Cambodia

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Dance Wing

Butterfly shadows dance in your face
Street theater drama

Feed Me
said the capable girl of 7 in her blue skirt school uniform

to a parent or teacher telling her what to think

sitting on a cement Vietnamese bench
surrounded by green plants and yellow flowers swirling

bakery aromas of baguettes

French dialect dependency waited for her dwindling courage
Draw the future
Poetry sits with sea sky blue
Black swift lets
Dance wing
Saliva
Bird’s nest soup
Delicacy
Negotiate clouds

Calligraphy
Cut up
Less is more
Old man’s face carries future of child innocence
beauty
clean pure radiant

luminous
Dream Sweeper
Kep ocean songbird waves islands
sky rain sings green blue purple
white yellow gray sheets
clouds dance

Space is geography
Time is history
Bird song sings wings

A dying caged bird sings Goodbye Blue Sky - I never knew you ...

Grow Your Soul

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One Air day

Someone else is writing this.

Now it is dark and I am sitting in a small private zone at Coconut. It is a raised platform with large comfortable pillows, a square table with a red and orange cotton runner. The hand carved flower vase holds two white frangipani flowers , hibiscus and bougainvillea.

The platform has a thatched roof and wooden railings on the sides. It is typical of Balinese - Lombok style. Perfect for snoozing, eating, reading. Delightful, clean simple and elegant in its simplicity.

Today's island walk was clean and peaceful. No motor vehicles, no merchants on scooters selling bread while playing a scratchy recording at ear splitting levels. No young "cowboys" hustling their 125 cc passive aggressive tendencies, such as you find on Lombok and Bali.

The day passed sitting, watching dive boats ply aquamarine blue, arching toward Lombok Strait depths. Lombok is across the way, beaches, palms, rising smoke from field burning, foothills and the rising dark blue clouds shading Mt. Rinjani and the volcano. Blue sky.

So it feels good to be sitting here in the garden. This is the University of the Garden. This blooming forth. Fragrance taken deep into lungs. A mask on the wall. Solemn eyes down, drifting. Yes, this bamboo wood-wind chime. Across the sea all blue calm, singing. 

White coral bones. A dreamcatcher. Feathers.

Swimming sand castles. Blue heaven light. Reflections and strong current desires dance the water.

Wind whistles through high wavering coconut palms.  

Metta.