The Angel and Rain


This morning an angel fell out of a carob tree
(what it was doing there beats me) he fell into
the lake, now reduced to a murky pond, but he
got up and walked with grace and no obvious
embarrassment, along the lane although, he had
a dirty face I knew that the drought was over in
October it will rain.






Haiku (September)

The maid who milks dew
Awoke and kissed my brow
Sweet melancholy.


The light is still clear
The coffee tastes as before
But trees tell of fall.


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