Twelve

Like the drowsy bear,
X looks for a quiet spot,
a soft, restful lair.

His chilled heart hardens
on the circular paths toward
Japanese gardens.

Each new frosty trail—
an obedient creature
chasing its own tail.

These heaps of white stones
might conceal a frozen truth:
Old travelers’ bones.

The air feels colder
when a white rabbit glances
over its shoulder.

Seeing XAVIER twice—
like looking both at and through
a mirror of ice.

His green-flecked blue eye
encounters its reflection,
the pond’s mottled sky.

Sitting with legs crossed,
the mantis shows self-control
that none could exhaust.

The hybrid flowers
whisper their silken blushes,
yield their mixed powers.

Each being perceives
only its own piece of life:
one tree, many leaves.

When the wind relents
the leaf feels its own shaking
and can come to sense.

Fresh Xs enter,
Spreading like lotus petals
from his still center.

From his still center
a brief wisdom floats, settles:
a summer renter.

X can now condense
his former dealings with Y
as “willful suspense.”

The lone swallow grieves
unless the loss of his wife
grants him full reprieves.

From cloudy towers
a gift of new life rushes
in warming showers.

There, in the grass, tossed
or simply allowed to roll,
a rollerblade lost.

Aspiring to fly
in a certain direction
X gives it a try.

The unpaired device—
one much less than half of two—
will have to suffice.

With each step bolder,
the one-legged crane dances,
misgivings moulder.

But not all unknowns
the seeker might hope to sleuth
will soon become knowns.

To Y moves this snail,
but before he can reach her
his footing will fail.

Gravity’s wardens
in their strictness will afford
very few pardons.

Becoming aware
of his own role in the plot,
X fixes his stare.

[17:00 / reflecting / haiku / navel / X = hybrid / Japanese House]