Daffodil
The yellow
daffodil
that blooms only in midwinter—
a beauty that drives away the cold,
a source of strength
to endure the frost.
So that the heart
waiting for spring
does not grow weary,
it lays a bridge of blossoms
across the depth of winter,
whispering—
Take my hand, cross over.
A selfless pilgrim,
guiding us toward spring.
To cleanse the
crooked memories
with its clear ringing,
it hangs beneath the eaves of winter
like a wind chime of quiet purification.
Fruit Diary
To eat a single,
well-ripened fruit
is to receive a rounded universe within myself.
From a small seed,
awakening in the dark of the soil,
reaching quietly toward the light,
until at last it gathers into a full, round fruit—
the earth must
have offered its back in silence,
and the rain, deep at the roots,
must have whispered courage.
Fragile beings,
becoming one another’s sunlight,
one another’s rain,
one another’s soil,
have tended the young life—
fearing even the smallest wound,
keeping watch with anxious hearts,
enduring long days together
so it might ripen more perfectly, more whole.
And someone, at
last,
not wishing to harm that rounded life,
must have gathered it gently
with careful hands.
That circle of
care
has now come to me.
Within me, it becomes another quiet universe.
And so, today,
in the small field of my heart,
I plant once more
a single, rounded seed.
Banana
Only after passing
through green days
does it finally ripen yellow like sunlight
Those green days, when peeled away,
are like the soft flesh quietly revealed—
days that have nurtured inner growth
Even the simple act of eating a banana
can fill the empty nourishment of the heart
and ripen today
more maturely than yesterday
So that a day welcomed with a well-ripened heart
may gently hold an unripe one,
we must cultivate the hands of the heart
that blooms only in midwinter—
a beauty that drives away the cold,
a source of strength
to endure the frost.
waiting for spring
does not grow weary,
it lays a bridge of blossoms
across the depth of winter,
whispering—
Take my hand, cross over.
A selfless pilgrim,
guiding us toward spring.
with its clear ringing,
it hangs beneath the eaves of winter
like a wind chime of quiet purification.
is to receive a rounded universe within myself.
awakening in the dark of the soil,
reaching quietly toward the light,
until at last it gathers into a full, round fruit—
and the rain, deep at the roots,
must have whispered courage.
becoming one another’s sunlight,
one another’s rain,
one another’s soil,
have tended the young life—
fearing even the smallest wound,
keeping watch with anxious hearts,
enduring long days together
so it might ripen more perfectly, more whole.
not wishing to harm that rounded life,
must have gathered it gently
with careful hands.
has now come to me.
Within me, it becomes another quiet universe.
in the small field of my heart,
I plant once more
a single, rounded seed.
does it finally ripen yellow like sunlight
Those green days, when peeled away,
are like the soft flesh quietly revealed—
days that have nurtured inner growth
Even the simple act of eating a banana
can fill the empty nourishment of the heart
and ripen today
more maturely than yesterday
So that a day welcomed with a well-ripened heart
may gently hold an unripe one,
we must cultivate the hands of the heart
