Four Words In Search Of Punctuation

One looks
Into it

It looks 
Into one

Transit umbra, lux permanet

Shadow passes, light remains.
What follows --bodies, brains,
Lives, worlds-- contains what
Unfurls in quotient: energies
Sent in rhythm from the sun.
To be or not to be -- or two
Bees on a sunflower-- this
Unmeasured hour matters not 
To me, but when I see this photo, 
Taken by my wife, I see what 
Sun and shadow made 
Of life: "...pretty sunflower
waves hello." --her caption.
I for one must laud the
Light that made it so.

New Light

From 93 million miles
Above, a little light
Touches a newly
Hatched dove, gently
Across that huge divide,
Greets an autoelic spark
Inside life --I believe
That is love. 

We Are

We are born into
Unknown works,
Forms of things to be,
Grown in futurity--
What will be done--
Souls circling a
Yellow sun, a 
Living star. I rather
Like what we are.
 

Mockingbird

He showed up on a 
Sunday (I remember my
Portuguese, Sunday=Domingo)
And began to sing.
He sings of doves in lower 
Terraces and bushtits in hedges.
He sings of hawks in high
Distance and a lazy cat --he makes
All their sounds, announcing to all
Birds this is a good garden to nest in.
He is a virtuoso --his opera includes
Survival-- and the birds come.
There is nothing medicinal in
His art of reciting himself
But he helps other birds decide,
And he makes me feel good.
I call him Placebo Domingo.
"Bravo", I tell him. "Bravo!"

Norma's Scarecrow

Because of bunnies
And squirrels, she
Built a scarecrow
Today and draped
It purple in wind
To send out royal
Edicts snagging sticks.
They flutter, they defend!

Then Wings

We come from piscine
Astronauts with a desire
To explore atmospheres
More rarified --equate
Progress with higher
And higher flight.
There are times though,
Admittedly, when
I miss my flippers.