Morning by Krista Lukas

The stillness, the radio’s news,
the scent of rain. My neighbor
bending to pick up his newspaper
in its orange plastic bag, tossed
on the step. The cars all
heading this way or that,
a fine spray beneath their wheels. Vapor
rising from sidewalks, and the light
of the eastern sun, slanting long, as if
there’s all the time in the world.

(Krista Lukas)



under the flaming banyan tree
     her nightmares seek enlightenment

dear heron of great blue light
     show this crying goddess home

let her run with morning moons
     and nap in trumpeting sunlight 

guide her to your kingdom of shallow water
     and stand with her there, still, in the peace

of a gentle breeze and rippling haiku