Haiku

And I thought: there are
no stories in me; only
shallow wanderings...

I watch songs blossom
and poems laden with fruit
and I hold my breath.

We look for wisdom
in words because thoughts speak in
smiles and hope and space

I was made from trees
and cut from wholes to sleep
upon the mountains.

Your every smile
is a song which I will live
to understand.

Rain soaks every breath.
It is an untethered beast
in New York City.