Why Child

I draw a storm of letters,

Tangled in spider silk,

buzzing winged things

flutter.

Vibrations multiplied

fingers on strings

stutter.

I roll a bowl of noise

between the frames,

birds of different feathers

flock

swoop the bees

shock

the trees,

dive into this 

garden of pie.

Still I am waiting

for a child with a why

and a slowly smacking 

sun.

Hunkered Junko

He sits puffed

Perched on a twiggy tree

turning a wary eye

on my camera and me

Tahoma

The pale sleeper 

hovers on the horizon

The earth mother 

feeds her with molten blood

Through umbilical tubes

A day will come

when she will rise and throw off her white cover

with the sound of thunder.