From my recent series Mountainless Poetry (AKA Plain Poetry)
For teaching me of unknown paths For hinting to me of fogs at feet For reminding me of sunrise tea For showing me both ink stain and light rain For simply savoring the simple life For illustrating the service of the eremite For singing to paulownia blossoms For dancing with loneliness For sculpting sorrow and joy For nights in caves For ragged cloths pulled tight against the biting, bitter frosts For wondering at tiger tracks and losing foods to monkey packs For hunger days and thirst nights. For solace found in the brethren-free, high mountain, echoless and grand...Lonely... For smiling to passing clouds For bowing to bent bamboo For conversing with berries For chorusing with birds For sitting at the feet of pebbles For asking deep of puddles For taking advice of flocks, both goats and geese. (And gnats, as well.) For taking as their audience the empty Valley the midnight Sun the empty bowl and the passing breeze I wish to not ever visit each and every hermit. Not ever. Not ever. Forever. No, never.
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