Sacred

the forest path

the inner sanctum 

inside temple doors

in a truck

driving down 

back country lanes

a desk scattered 

with papers

and coffee cup debris

the smoke break bench

everywhere is sacred

Come outside

 the Abbess:

"come outside

it is loud

you'll love it."

the monk is confused

...then remembers:

"are the peepers out?"

they are  

with loud forest calls

oh this spring chorus

frogs thriving

in perfect woodland ponds

I love it.

Power

power 

(or one might call it seething evil)

almost killed the tired monk

tipped him from tired to dead

killed his spirit

sent him out on the road (poetically)

working my way back to monk duties

poems and prayers

     hopefully peace.

trespassing

trespassing...I guess

beat down path beside the creek

just a bit off the (city sanctioned)

recreational path

crushed domestic beer cans

pile of fortified wine bottles

cold wind over the field

gather up a few scraps and twigs

little daytime hobo fire

warming up the little dell

one perfect cedar brand

to lite my pocket pipe

a quick tug

from a silver flask

fire dies low and slow

kick over some dirt

bag up the party debris

one more whisky sip

and home