Crossing the divine,
I ask the marigolds...

Becoming scattered,
the winged visitors...

The pungent smoke.
Someone was burning...

A cherry legacy
and the orange pick...

The wind was black
and I wanted to make an eye contact...

Becoming musical
at the end time...

The fantasy:
of moving in a circle...

The ledge, jutting out
in quivering water...

It was not easy,
to rewrite a dream poem...

Move the steps,
to accept the dark...

Unbecoming, you watch
the sunset...

It was difficult to revisit,
the birth therapy...