Tiny Poem V

Freewheeling to Putney
On a honeysuckle June night -
This huge butter-bright moon,
its tidal pull on my front wheel -
and some sort of anthem
roaring in my ears.
I throw my head back
& laugh out loud for joy.

Tiny Poem III (II is wandering)

Your clasped fingers grasped
In my upturned palm,
I pause in a moment's broad breath -
Each languorous heartbeat a semibreve -
And wonder at what it is
To be truly known.