Like a mark still visible
after the rain
the light in yin, the shade in yang
a moment’s reflection,
an obscure meeting,
the temporal sky
the armored sea
merging in alchemy.
Shadowplay through a pinched valley,
a quality of light
that will not last on the surface
but goes down
like a ship in a storm,
a squall and a gasp,
the drowned dead on driftwood raft
to isolated coasts abiding tides
feasting bonfires, glowing eyes,
the glinting edge of river carved lines.
Moors illuminated
cliff face that finds
lifting veils, precipitous falls,
gathering cloud stalls
on cathedral peaks, impermanent.
In the pasture the meditative calm
of watchful sheep
against wild hills unsheathed.
Wind works through the imagination,
through trees that bend,
disintegrate on piper’s notes
that find you in the end
impermanent.
Akin to smoke
off the surface of lakes
early light through the steam
of sipping dark coffee
and dream
for an hour, the writer
ponders the theme
from a corner,
a chronicle in the change
of action into thought,
each becoming the other
shadow absorbed
into the white walls of its lover.
The message of marks
destined to be erased
is the beauty
in what does not last permanently.
yakskinpocketnotes 