From them I seek To learn how to absorb A single letter of the alphabet, Which will trail behind me, Whenever I glide on still water Or fly north south, along the winds.

[2] Fishing at the Lake

I am watching the still Surface of the lake, Waiting for a fish to rise.

Instead the dipping sun Brings up a gilded image Of an embrace and a kiss.

I look up and see a couple Under a stand of oaks, On the far shore.

[3] Travel without moving

Sunday morning, diagonals Of light across my desk, A steaming cup of coffee, Photographs of calligraphic Domes, gardens, carpets, ruins, And my tongue trying out The almost familiar rhythms Of Persian: Khoda hafez, Go with God. Goodbye.