Beauty from the small and transitory

Cool water in a small teacup on a hot day.
Trees swaying and leaves rustling in the wind.
Sound of cicadas in a mid-summer garden.
Waft of wisteria on the breeze under a pergola.
Velvety petals of lamb’s ear along the path.


It descends like a soft cloud
Encasing me in comfort.
What is this strange feeling?
So ephemeral…
I cannot catch it.
It slips through my fingers if I try.
But when I sense it,
I can turn my face to it
And bask in its warmth.
And then see it on its way
With a silent word of thanks.
I hope to see you again soon, happiness.
Thanks for passing through my life.
You need to visit more often.

Chatter of birds

Like birds
The words call to one another,
Threatening others to stay away,
Beckoning others to draw near—
Dances of territorial and mating displays.
The words create and destroy.
They are always there in the background,
Whether I acknowledge them or not.
Like the chatter of birds
As we go about our day.
We rarely hear them.