The Gingko’s Tale


Leaves like little fans
Or green butterflies settling on stems
As sunlight on bright wings
Yesterdays that flutter past
My window.

Startled Heraclitus in streams of change
Sees Parmenides grasp a stolen current
Where languishing wings can’t decay green summer
Held fast in the eddy of my gaze
Caught in rivulets of pain
Till You, my Lord, come again.