may 13

A May day. Sunday. Thirteenth.
Waking to perfumed oils and
candles smoky snuffed. From a
a starless dream that belonged
to a night not spilling secrets.
A village dawn no sky, no sun
just storm. Lightning flashing blue
thunder crashing. Blossoms blown.
Seeds sent to other gardens.

Magenta Rain

From above morning sun stolen.
Patio magenta, bougainvillea strewn
Delighting wet film of grey.
Frogs greeting from tunnels hidden.
Rhythmic. Answering calls come
echoing from friendly frogs.