Fifteen hands

 

They stare at giant Sequoia trees
as if some secrets hide inside
like how to live a thousand years.

I look at Sunset mountain on
the wide side of the sky
thinking of enlightenment.

Paper, scissors, whetstone blue
I need to sharpen up
so you
put me through some hoops
and things
until this body
sings

(still out of tune )

the Moon and I are old friends.

© 2019, John Smallshaw.