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Fox Wind
Giselle Maya
a
Fox Wind
Giselle Maya
otata’s bookshelf
2017
Fox Wind Copyright ã 2017 Giselle Maya.
otata’s bookshelf https://otatablog.wordpress.com/
Fox Wind a
a
HANDS
pulling weeds seeding mesclun arranging stones —
hands always tending the garden helping plants to grow
seen from afar the narrow path of the spring almost dry pruning white roses thumb pricked by a thorn a hand stenciled on a cave wall 40,000 years ago
placed flat sprayed with manganese oxide lasting the imprint of a hand
all we do with our hands in the end folded thumbs touch in our lap a deep silence sounded by our hands’ repose
a
NAMES
what’s a name you and I and everyone else what summer plants most need : rain and dense mist
russet sails on a vast sea a voyage
have i forgotten the names of those i once loved
do you hear the lavender shrub whistling
FOX WIND
white peony I wonder if you will grow back anemones long before roses
wind through my hair the spring’s whistle why is the fox coming back at dusk to visit the garden
in a bowl I prepare water for the fox’s thirst
cricket song each summer evening turns into night dusk watering quenching all the plants' thirst noone else out I am invisible except to the fox these small books he sends in the mail treasures
I drift with the red maple leaf among water lilies light touch trimming faded roses before they turn into rosehips magical eyes a russet fox comes to drink from the water basin
ALL THE LONG SUMMER DAYS
august dusk the wild boar’s form dark and puissant from the forest morning dew the only water withering meadow
the warmth of a boiled egg autumn on its way a russet chrysanthemum opened and stays for a time solitude better than banal chatter
pink clouds evening chant from cricket meadow
cloud dragon shaped by the wind dissolves cat’s whiskers gently waken my early face
summer night tom cat stalks his orange lady friend cooler air a poem emerges from my nap always on the look-out for four-leaf clovers