BEAUTY

 

I see the yellow leaves

Of the persimmon tree

Falling down,

Showing that they are light,

That's why

They gracefully fall

In volutes through the air.

 

(as all that is light and fragile falls)

 

They are welcomed by the grass of the ground

Who doesn't feel their weight;

But they stay there,

Yellow

As they please.

 

And, dead,

They’re still part of the beauty

Which spreads around.

IN THE AFTERNOON

I thank God for the silence

Which happens sometimes.

The silence allowed

By the radio off,

The silent and empty TV,

The voices ceased.

 

The sound of a child's voice,

Measured and felt by the distance.

 The sound of a bird singing,

Growing in the silence.

 

The sound of a saw is the sound of steel

And wood, so pristine

As in the days of Noah.

 

Continuous bass is the wind,

Of all 

an out of tune cello.