Documenting the silence 
the bus stop is almost reclaimed by nature
until the bus arrives after a long conversation
with the broken country path
in a meditative rhythm each morning 

disgorging the mood 
its wheels on cast aside leaves
inbetween the sun barely awake 
in the early morning sky
and the sinking moon 

recording the moment afterwards
restlessly in symmetries in gentle wind
...

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Spring is coming

And faces were pressed

Flat against the windows.

Spring is coming

Breathless and touching

From a distance.

Spring is coming

Like a child

Which is deep inside.

Spring is coming

Like a long lost love

As the sun sneaks

Past the windowsill

In the morning.

And over the shoulders

Of your sleeping be...

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