Tagged: bamboo

in the middle of

in the dream after

in the dream after
the dream that is just before
waking, bamboo soup,

the way mom cooks it at home,
a memory for the journey
.
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after two weeks and

cutting back winter’s

cutting back winter’s
bamboo to make room for growth –
spring has a funny

way of saying hello, armed
with snow, rain, shears, and shovel
.
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under all this

under all this
heaviness, who’s to
say that when we
emerge from the
snow, we might be
an oak leaf or
a bamboo, a maple
or a poplar, green,
gold, red, or dead
.
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y

i am waiting for

i am waiting for
you to say the word, so that
i can take you there –

underneath a rustling
canopy, a bamboo harvest
.
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y

in mom’s

winter shoots, spring

my mother carves

my mother carves
a winding
staircase into its
husk, peels
back each perfect
layer, and extracts
a tender shoot. when
she finally breaks
into them, the
gentlest music
skips between
the nodes

.
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