winter lights

Christmas light strands
hang down dead n'dim
clattering
in the north wind

power flickers
with each cold gust

low rumble
out beyond
the curve
blue lights flash
whirl into view

the county plow
pushing back
 deep snow
 and darkness


the Tired Monk

temple gates

no need for locks
or latches hooking
the gates tight

no footprints
will disturb the new
dusting snow

oh this lonely temple

tired monk's courage

courage

to face the razor
don the robes
nights of hard duty

to take on most
 holy vows
to retreat deep
tend the hearth fires
walk the walls
guard the sacred gates

to pray
look within
find the strength
to walk down
from the temple
and serve

winter duties

snow sifts in
stretching out
in neat little lines

wind whistles and lashes
the darkened light strands

the tired monk
shovels the walk
pushing back the cold

evening

light fades
dimming forest dark
cold seeps
through the temple walls

cast a knit blanket
up over my shoulders
stoke the hearth fire

wait
for morning light

SG Poem

electric crackling
humming feedback fades
with the turn of a dial

slow steady
just six notes

no whirling robes
windmilling
no hammering
of the gods

a touch of vibrato
more punctuation
than punk

north wind poem

salt stains

splatter robe cuffs

ice cracking

in windy tree branches

pull my hood up

sinking deeper

tucking in tight

against the sleet

stretch out

shovel sore back

look to the horizon

a little more light 

each day

my robes

robes still fit
even after seven years
 a couple thousand days
 of tired monk duties

they're rumpled
 worn
but I slip them on
 pray
that the wrinkles
will fall out


the tired monk