Morning Stillness

Tadpoles looking like little fish,
sprout legs,
become frogs and hop away.

I like it when you approve
of what I do

red tide
yellow moon-
men in boats fish for food

once a tiny fishing village,
over fished –
now a tourist trap without fish

Reverence, the deep
black space between stars –
filled with love and light.

Hope, a silent voice,
perennial,
traveling at the speed of light

tea leaves from distant
terraced slopes, harvested with love
humming, she brews it up

My life once a tragedy –
now a clean fresh slate
to...