Tanka

 

                                           at this age
                                           I choose only vibrant colors
                                           for the garden;
                                           there is no time to languish
                                           in melancholy

                                           I tend my plants
                                           with a mixture of awe
                                           and frustration;
                                           like my poems some grow, some die
                                           and some are weeds I still keep

                                           not quite full dark
                                           my imagination kindled
                                           by silhouettes
                                           the blackness of ancient pines
                                           sparked with fireflies

Bottle Rockets, Feb. 2009
Kernels, April 2013
Magnapoets, summer 2009