imperfections
hints in the air
of green grass a crocus flashes
the pan days are as long
or short
as I make them
not fooled
by her tied fly
a salmon chases the hatch
in the wind
the river
bunches up it was the crevices
this time that caught my eye
the hard lines
the imperfections
which create unity
within variety
a perfect quiet
sits on my shoulders
not so much of a burden
as the sun
in the sky
