Light and Grass

Light and grass reflect in the stream,
Tranquil outside the palace walls,
Her image looks like an old dream,
That rises, sinks, but never falls.

(Written on April 29, 2006)

A Late Winter Scene

Pools of shimmering melted snow,
A bird flies above leafless trees,
The crisp wind gives a gentle blow,
A year’s cold sufferings unfreeze.

The seasons change with gallant Spring,
The world looks at itself anew,
Three sit cross-legged meditating,
With clear minds and hearts so true.

Drops of water fall from white snow,
Like sweat that falls from a strained face,
The pain of racing thoughts don’t show,
As they evaporate into grace.

Leaves like attachments now removed,
On the Spring ground they are but dust,
For students of the Way, it behooves
To keep only what they must.

The austere, skeletal branches
Mirror their cold cheekbones made gaunt
Surviving life’s avalanches,
They’re students no ghost would dare to haunt.

The austerities of Winter
Temper the heroes of the Spring,
And all nature is the cantor,
For epic hymns the students sing.

The Wind and the Leaf

From whence does the Wind blow the Leaf,
These same air particles and atoms,
What stories do they know, what grief?
Did they once portend a phantom?

And who am I to them?
A villain, a stranger, hated uncle?
“Tarry not,” says the Leaf from its stem,
Flexing its green curved muscle.

“They are the guest and you the lord,
They're worried what you think of them,
There is no need to draw your sword,
They think your heart a precious gem.”

The Leaf makes a good point,
I keep on the narrow sidewalk ahead,
With each breath of air I anoint,
And with each step, this earth I wed.