Where the Sunlight Stays

And Other Poems

In this first poem, I envision the sunlight passing through the desert on its long journeys, and resting here.

Where the Sunlight Stays

This is the pied-à-terre of sunlight,
Where it rests, having left its homeland
And traveled to far places,
Fluttered down upon a blue world
Where it has found a home,
Sleeping in the cup of the mountains,
On the cushion of the broad earth.
Here it dances every morning,
Settles in for a siesta just at noon,
When it lounges unmoving,
Dreaming of its birth
In the far caverns of the sun.
Here it lingers at evening,
Painting the mountains’ faces
A thousand gentle colors,
Then drawing its curtains
Between the night clouds.
And I think it is happy while it rests here;
While it melts and builds new mountain walls,
It tenderly sings the youngest sprouts
Up from the warm soil,
Smiles at the birds’ greetings when it rises,
Their farewells when it goes to sleep at night.
There are no birds in the sun.

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The other day I glanced out the window to see the clouds’ lights and shadows looking as if they had been embossed across the sky. It gave the effect of looking at an image of the scene rather than at the landscape itself.

White clouds are embossed
above the carved mountainsides~
postcard of summer.

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Often during this rainy season, the clouds at nightfall hang low over the valley below us.

In midnight darkness
pale clouds float below me–hush,
the valley’s sleeping.

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This last haiku depicts one of the many toads that are enjoying the unusually wet season.

Careful–fresh green paint
like daubs on a wet palette.
Loppity, hop hop.

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