
For whom the apple tree blooms
on the empty homestead?
Not you or me but
the perished spirits by the tornado of
yesterday singing in the wind.
©by Byung A. Fallgren

For whom the apple tree blooms
on the empty homestead?
Not you or me but
the perished spirits by the tornado of
yesterday singing in the wind.
©by Byung A. Fallgren

We settled down
between the mossy
rocks where
animal droppings
lay beneath
our cones and twigs,
envisioning
the new saplings
in spring, hopeful
they’ll reach sky someday,
let the stars snuggle
on the tree tops,
swinging in the
pine scented breeze–
dream blooms
in the humble milieu.
©by Byung A. Fallgren

Happy Mother’s Day!

Despite
the blame for
written and
spoken word
it’s what has been
binding us
together from
ancient time
We chew and digest it
to nourish
our relationship
bloom
by Byung A. Fallgren

True success
is not the goal
achieved but
how you did
to accomplish it.
©by Byung A. Fallgren

We dreamed of
our reunion
all winter long,
and here we are,
looking at each other
in silent glee.
Hear the sob of joy
in the sweet breeze,
in the stream of
melting snow, exited
for our ensemble
in the days to come,
even the stars pause on the hill
with envy. Bless our carefree nature,
autumn frost and winter snowstorm
are needful villains for our survival.
Just celebrate this wonderful season
of our time together.
©by Byung A. Fallgren

Opportunities are usually disguised as hard work, so most
people don’t recognize them.
–Ann Landers
posted by Byung A. Fallgren

Pink dress for
May festival,
hovering
bumblebees,
I’ve returned just for you.
©by Byung A. Fallgren
In the pool of our thoughts
some are hazy, reluctant to be
crystalized, cowering in the
deep consciousness yet with
a glim of possibility, like seeds buried
in the earth a bit too deep that
needs soft rain and time,
they hide in silence as
we explore round other ideas.
We cultivate our minds,
broaden the scope of perspective, only then
do the hidden thoughts surface as
gems and we value our continued endeavor
for new knowledge to create, to turn
what seems to be trite into something fresh.

by Byung A. Fallgren
Sunday afternoon
at the remote lake,
we teased naive fish,
listened to the
gabbing water at the shore,
laughing birds at the sparkling water–
love relationship with the nature unbroken.
On our ride back home, jealous rain pours
down, blinding us, while monster
trucks zoomed by, dumping more water
on the windshield,
his white knuckle around the wheel, then
sudden dazzling sunlight, we smile at the
vagary of Mother Nature, thrill, fun we
could’ve missed had we stayed home–
renewed appreciation for
the bountiful outdoors.

by Byung A. Fallgren