En La Cafetería

 

Busco la inspiración de Proust y la luz cambiante.  

Sight

 

 

My purblind cat

lopes across the room 

in the same seeing way 

and heralds the eventual 

hop onto my lap

with a swish of her tail.

En La Fronda

 

In the bower

we wait

for the words

to emerge.

 

Escribo para me descubrir.  

Los Ocasos

 

I am not bereft 

when I have the sunsets 

I share with my mother.

Mi Amor de Palabras

 

O to luxuriate 

in a well-rounded O

slowly cradled 

until it expires.

Making Tea

The promise of precision 

slips away 

when stray thoughts

enfold themselves 

into the pouring 

of the emerald green liquid.