"Without the sour taste of an unripe persimmon ...."

“Without the sour taste of an unripe persimmon who can know the beauty of its matured flavour?”

Thought remains thought

Uncoiled, unshaped,

What’s this that

floats and fleets?

A bud of candlelight

 

A bud of candlelight

Brilliance but

for a gasp

A magic lost.

 

Tracing hills on grandma's lines

 

Tracing hills on grandma’s lines

Sailing the world in the water tub

and giggles, then and forever.