spring

spring... it comes through hard storms this year..
since child it stirs me from deep inside,
makes me restless, lets me feel
i must grow and blossom and die..
at times i preferred the autums
when all finds accomplishment of cycles,
 a moment's peace in golden luminous light,
 a rest

improvising

recently i read again that it is not loss
making us sad but our thoughts on it.
 so not loss causes pain but our ( half-conscious) patterns
of imagination do.
 though feeling is always a true experience,
 feelings can change.
and we can improvise
with what we have.

the rain falling

the rain falling 

softly like snow on snow

through the spaces of night

a fox barked in the village,

the sound of a bicycle,

bushes and birches whispered

listening i walked out of me, 

through the zero of language,

still, i long for your kiss