He stood still
just outside the Buddha Hall
his back to the altar looking
at the great bell, watching
the young robed monk approach.
He knew what was coming,
steeled himself for the moment
as the monk walked into the shoro,
pulled back on the suspended log,
waited for that one instant
when the log would strike the bell,
the moment of atari, and he smiled
knowing the wave of oshi would
wash over him, bathing him
in a joy he could only find
in a Temple, sad that the okuri,
the decay of the bell sound,
would gently usher him back
into the world from which
he had briefly, joyously found refuge.