iced in

tempted
to walk empty temple halls
no novices on this iced in day

wander to the common room?

i would
but the tired monk knows...

the coffee tastes burnt up there

converse...

why?

why do I have to?

novices ask, and ask
this one...the most

the tired monk wants to
dig zen deep
but he's got no roshi response

a back and forth of technique

tweed jacket teacher...no
fatherly love
pleas, emotion, logic,
a converse of silence

the tired monk responds:

duty

getting to the road

the road is so busy

M.Scott and Robert
heads down debating

Jack flicked his butt
into my ditch
            waved

Paul and Luke
hurried west
gathering

Basho stopped
on his journey
wrote a poem
slept on the porch

a tattered father and son
stopped  - end of the drive
fixed their shopping cart wheel
with borrowed tools


the tired monk dragging
empty roadside bins
back up to the temple

pauses

ponders

somedays...it is just getting to the road



Proverbs 3: 5-6

so called

these halls
are empty
dark

fewer novices
fewer monks

at last count: two monks
and one of them is tired

wait

there were a few more
so called monks
overseeing detention
of so called novices
caught pen-handed
writing
so called haiku

double robed haiku

morning bell rings
cold seeps in the windows
day of double robes

a monk's choice

a perfect prayer silence
  
   invaded

banging thudding
garbage cans flying
yells shouts
fists thrown high

stop prayer?

the tired monk walks
into the fray

Christmas Lights

lights left hanging
now just dark strands
coming free from the eaves
flapping against the house
as the cold front moves in

tracks

i)

first sound was the train
now there is just
white snow silence

ii)

mice tracks
tiny by the tree

rabbit tracks
big and bounding

fox tracks
tight on the hunting trail

monk tracks
weird robe swirls

on new year's day

some huddle
fearing Mayan math
resolving hurting and hung over

the tired monk
sink lingers
sips coffee and benedictine
drying towel sits ready
on robed left shoulder
pondering poems