Been waiting for this
for the view to be blocked
with lush
where by not seeing
I know exactly where we are
the scents taking me back
winds so soft
they only lift the dreams
and soothing sunlight
at play with the shadows
let’s go where we can’t go
where we just have to wait
let’s go
A clock of wind
ticking in blows
devours with each bend
The second hand
makes its mark
in the dive of each needle
Our gathering in the fall
fades at the edges
but it happened
So we’ll always know
where to meet
in spring’s new shade
In the garden
where the old tree fell
last winter
I buried the memory
of the carving
we inscribed
What we used to say
to each other
had risen too high
for the echo
to find its way
back to us
Though there are still flowers
they’re waiting for shade
and softened rains
that won’t come
for this year’s bloom
or the next
April 2, 2022
The flowers abound
suddenly
like a new sun
despite our mapping
of the stars
Winds glint a residual
new beginning
over and over again
until a gathering swirl
takes it too far
Still the whisper
lingers in the rustle
just long enough
to remind the fade
of the always of time
April 1, 2022
Sitting on a bench
alone at the edge
of a particular moment
in time
that seemed to linger
like the greens of summer
has now fallen away
like the leaves
on those trees
that fell one by one
but seemed like they were all gone
in a closed eyes instant
Dream dreamers newsletter: The Falling Dream.
Realizing as I embrace
the later light of spring
and say goodbye to winter
I haven’t let go of the fall
This is a collaboration with the artist Maggie Umber. I took a photo during a quiet moment in the Fall, capturing a lone swan majestically making its way along the still water. It inspired me to write a poem, and I posted both the photo and poem online. Maggie saw this post and was inspired to paint the image, and during the process, the swan disappeared. I was then inspired to write another poem, and create an image of the photo, artwork, and poems, side by side.
It really resonated with me how the swan disappeared in Maggie’s painting. Was it a mirage? Pure imagination? A dream? Or just life — there it is, and then it is gone. And yet the moment lives on — in memory, a photograph, artwork, and poems. The smallest, quietest, fleeting happenings have a way of just going and going, and perhaps that is what truly binds everything together and helps us make sense of our lives and the mystifying world around us.
Maggie is a truly amazing artist making all kinds of innovative work, including one of my favorite graphic novels — Sound of Snow Falling. Her forthcoming graphic novel — Chrysanthemum Under the Waves — is one of the books I am anticipating the most. The disappearing swan piece she painted is available as a print via her website.
There in the distance
we take our seats in this dream
table set for two
— Jeffrey Yamaguchi
Dream dreamers newsletter: The Falling Dream.
Over wet sand
I trudge through
remnants of a sideways figure 8
The sloped curves
defy time
for the briefest of moments
then weave themselves
into the constancy of
crashing
Reaching for the end
with a most delicate touch
before returning to the sea
Dream dreamers newsletter — The Falling Dream.
Jeffrey Yamaguchi 
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