(Rishi Valley, India)
Time is neither day nor night
not hours or measure of man.
It is uncounted birds
singing in the banyan’s shade.
It is the seasons’ winds
rushing through its leaves.
It is another vine
rooting in the ground.
It is ten thousand moons
reflecting in its crowns...
and to dangle my feet
from tall stone benches
in the shelter of an old banyan tree
is to relive a time when I was small
and the dome of a cathedral
was as close and as far away as God.
Yellow Flower
(Huangshan Mountain, China)
A frail stem clings
to barren rock.
Bright petals shimmer
like sunrays -
joy in foggy gloom.
Bionote
Monika John is a writer and, lawyer and world traveler living in the Pacific Northwest.
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