We are made of stars

Dust of the first explosion

Bits of mystery

 

Paused at the crossroads

Liminal and unguarded

The choice will make me

 

This vernal morning

The garden wakes, smiles, and bows

Praise to the sunrise

 

Strong-winged albatross

Soaring on the ocean’s draught

Effortless effort

 

This meadow was made

By way of a beaver’s craft

A pond abandoned

 

To make a haiku

Invite some words on a walk

And enjoy the view

 

Cursorial fowl

You can fly, but run instead

Always on the dash