This Garden

This garden
Belongs to no
Particular space
Or age --creation
Is not frozen in place.
Over clouds, the loud
Sun roars in its cage,
Announcing life,
Then silence. 
Then we go where
We have not been.

Nexus

On earth,
Brass bells
Hang from
Umbrella  branches.
Everything has its birth.
Rounding dawn
Dreams back its
Billion years.
Old red stars in our
Cosmic spine
Barely displace darkness
Now, persist in
Garden roses.
What disappears in
Light, shadow exposes--
From antiquity,
Remotest night,
In wind where
Little bells emit
A melody to
What is still
Suspended there.

Irreducible

Here raindrops on
Purple iris fall,
Lit in clouds climbing
Our valley wall,
Refract a world,
An endless hour 
From an idly 
Unfolding flower.