February and into March

February 25^th

This the shortest month,

though not as short as

could be

rushes to close,

leaving only

glimpses

where we’ve been,

the way headed,

except

for now: forever

rainless skies and a brim-full moon

of patience.

…and into March…

A song for the manzanita—

five faces, one hill

When I contemplate the life-length of this mountain,

the seventy years it took me

to smell its dust

like this

do not rise

except to its reflection—we together

or not at all,

not at all ever alone.

**

“Stars,” for us,

but traces, really,

of what stars really are.

**

Waking in the night

from dreams of frost covered hills—

the sheen of moonlight.

**

Study, paperwork,

a walk and early planting.

And while standing in the kitchen

before evening chanting,

my life spreads clean

as the counter-top before me,

ripples

at my ankles. 

**

Buddhist contemplative…

No blame. We simply

get it wrong, and are carried

along just the same.

**

Light inside, dark out,

making mirrored images

where once was window.

**

Schooley 3/2/13

On the slopes in the sun

amidst the manzanita, he says:

“I bow to the mountain.”

**

Every thought, same story—like

streams in the darkened sky, trails

of ever thinning light,

precarious blessings,

angels’ exhales,

warmed whispers

on bared fingers,

fumbling

in the night.

**

Zuiken Sensei

That cigarette-smoking old man

studied dharma a life-time

or more. Or more.

Left accrued knowledge

to the page, opted

instead for spirit.

That unencumbered

breath rising

through his own.

**

Low fog lifts, daylight

descends, moist leavings tracing

each step into spring.

**

Because blossoms’ bouquet.

Because incense burning.

Because the altar’s quiet.

Buddha’s raised hand,

beside, the silent monk,

the gladdened heart, at rest.

**

Spring Report—March 27^th

As light lingers longer,

as sun betrays clinging chills,

your illness withers

and fades, dark winter dreams

heal in the hands of spring.