A Wayfarer

leaves drift 
across my path 
this autumn 
I lose the end 
of Ariadne’s thread

naked
under my cloak of dreams
I journey
toward a glass mountain. . . 
a sparrow hops in the dust

listening
for the heartbeat
of mystery—
a dry leaf crinkles
in the hollow of my hand

a map 
etched in frost
on a sycamore leaf
at the toe of my boot
. . .  you are here

snowflakes
on the tip 
of my tongue
the myriad names 
of god



~Bright Stars 6: An Organic Tanka Anthology, Autumn 2014