Fox Wind

Giselle Maya

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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

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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

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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