There Must Be Something (Poem for Weekly Pick)

There must be something
upon the hill.
When new moon whispers to shadows,
trees stretch each limb,
and owls halt.

There must be something
in the breeze.
When Misty May breathes fragrance,
windows half-open,
sunrays shed gold.

There must be something
on the beach.
When sunset dips down the skyline,
tide spreads white skirts,
sand embraces our footprints.

There must be something
beneath the snow.
When quiet dominates mountains,
squirrels clutch pinecones,
I watch you from a distance.

(from Wings Toward Sunlight, also appeared on Canadian Immigrant Magazine & ChinaDaily Newspaper)

Seeds of a Bailout

The chilly wind blows
leaves hastily fall.
In shattered scarlet
trees, young and old,
shiver.

On Wall Street,
behind bleeding screens,
reddish clumps
become burning fires.

Among branches’ shadowy limbs
woodpeckers retreat
their black beaks blunt.

Hollow eyes stare at the panicked street:
lies tangle in greed climb the twisted charts.

Soon, it all will turn to ash
inhaled by everyone–
wring sweat and blood
from our flesh.

Plowing through billions of seeds,
we hold our breath–
with the coming snow,
what else but plowing?

(published in “Tough Time” when the money doesen’t love us: (Black Moss Press) edited by John B. Lee)