Keith J Coleman

late summer
wings of the cranefly
rattle the long dry rushes

Presence 5

already pitted
   by quiet rain:
       the night’s new snow

Presence 8

   winter solstice—
the first time in how many years
   sharpening a pencil

Presence 8

spring darkness:
in a world that drips & trickles
scent of the conifer grove

Presence 11

hoar frost—
one hip left
on the dog rose

Presence 14

a snail track
   meanders across it:
      the first puffball

Presence 15

           Chinese New Year
fragranced by firecracker smoke
          the first birch catkins

Presence 17

autumn night
her warmth returns
—in a dream

Presence 19

solitary path—
      a piece of red sun slips
            into blue mist

Presence 20

in a world
of cares, never forget
this field
where cow-parsley nods
in the warm summer rain

Presence 19



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