flower moon musings

the steam from my bowl of tea is mixing with the smoke

of this ancient agarwood incense

two streams become one

slowly rising in curls of white, lifting into infinity

dissolving into nothingness

but leaving a lingering softness

and honey-sweet scent

it’s raining

I can’t see the moon

but I can feel her there

whole and full above us all

rising into infinity

lingering soft and sweet