THREE POEMS FOR CHIMNEY SMOKE

Eaves

Rainwater tiptoes overhead:

sleep, sleep

In the courtyard, water drips from the dream:

wake up, wake up

Stove

Feed dry grass or straw,

split tree limbs

Spines of fire

convey smoke’s disposition

Time turns to ashes

Hanging Pathway

Draw two beams with a third crossing

so travelers might tumble toward a tomb of dreams

Draw a path hung in air

where the far land fabled

lies ahead