MORNING

Morning would find him sitting
calmly, cross-legged, under the apple tree
that sat on the edge of the park.
He would stare up at a small branch
and carefully watch the bud
begin to open, ignoring all who passed.
Morning would find him sitting
calmly, cross-legged, under the apple tree
watching the fragile blossom open,
staring at its translucent pinkness,
ignoring all who passed.
Morning would find him sitting
calmly, cross-legged, under the apple tree,
watching the apply blossom dance
onto his folded hands,
ignoring all who passed.
Morning would find him sitting,
calmly, cross-legged under the apple tree
watching the leaves, slide free
and rest on the ground beside him.
He turned to all who passed
and said “Come, watch Buddha with me.”

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