A cool conflagration 
roaring in the high canopy.
I melt in summer's forge.

-Jeronimus

Evening

In the night that comes,
these trees will still be green,
this sky still blue.
-Jeronimus

Cypress pines - brushes
dipped in the infinite ink
of marine winds

-Jeronimus

on the warming lawn
various grasses compete
like warring kingdoms


-Jeronimus

Plumes upon the green Earth's helm
bending in the still chill wind.
-Poplars by the roadside.

-Jeronimus
('upon' is archaic but it sounds well with plume and poplar)

Spring-summer

On the boundary
a hedge sends errant tendrils
toward the summer


-Jeronimus

Immortality

high fine clouds like phoenix plumes
- a sickle moon scythes past lives
In afternoon blue

-Jeronimus

Who is the Poet?

No subject comes to mind -
the whole vibrating world's a poem
with sun and moon for metre.

Blue and Gray

Weeks of gray skies
brushed away by a cold blue wind.
New slates cover blue sarking.
-Jeronimus

Early Winter

a single shining sound
in the darkness before dawn,
- the rain-quickened stream

-Jeronimus

Perfuming the mind with depth
the wind from the sea
brings bursts of rain.

-Jeronimus