November mist nowhere
near any Big Sur perch.
This morning might give
way to snow or
nothing at all. I might give
in to references
to vertical transport or
stand on the ground
floor and celebrate
these wooden stairs.

Sculpture Garden

I see a rainbow reflection on the cherry
spoon of its own making—fountain’s
mist. Sun’s been shining
all day. And I know
I can break
my own heart.