Widower

From a packet full
of ashen bones,
a genie's jar of juju
he sows tomorrow
in dark shallow mounds
soft as his dead wife's bosom.

Herons dance down the rain
lucky bamboo soars,
he crouches by the river
pens the past in lemon juice
feeds it to the roiling water
buries himself deep in shadow.

Cloudwebs string a silent code
across the humpback moon,
silhouettes withdraw at dawn
he collects unrooted dreams
moils his way upstream.






Sunday Scribblings prompt: Walk
poetry watercolor