What May Come

Where did it come from, this premonition that someday I will be parted from my head?

winter’s over

time to shed your coat  woolly bear

In a distant field, a white house glows like a sail in the late-March sun.

a mourning cloak’s  black velvet

When I was a Buddha, my radiant body rang like a bell.

a gall wasp’s
empty oak apple
gone to seed

the empty days
in his pocket calendar

the sacrament’s
exoskeleton

in the autumn wind
katydid

held by a swallowtail
with tattered wings

monarch butterfly

finding each other
without mouths

aficionado
of clouds