APPROACHING WINTER

The temperature falls, slowly at first
but gaining speed, as though
in the grip of winter’s gravity.
Winter has the potential to be
a black hole season into which
we enter and imagine we
will never reemerge into spring.
The wind whispers stories to us
of a time when this was all ice
when no one complained of a chill
for there was no one.
We turn up our collars to remind
the wind that we will remain here,
for nature has given us
an equal dose of stubbornness.

SOLSTICE

I haven’t the time
to stop and measure the day
to insure that it is as short
as promised, that the sun
which will refuse to appear
would minimize its visit if it did.
That is a task I leave
willingly to others.
I increasingly operate
on faith, that I will wake
tomorrow, that tomorrow will
be longer than today,
that spring will arrive
in due course
if never soon enough.
I ought to be concerned
with all of these things,
but I know that time
is elastic and every look
in the morning mirror says
it is contracting far faster
than I would like.

UNGAN’S SWEEPS THE GROUND

As you stoop
to pick up fallen leaves
are you cleaning spring,
summer or autumn?
What seasons are deep
within the winter branch?
How does your work
and that of the tree
truly differ, and
what leaves
do you shed?


A reflection on Case 83 of the Shobogenzo (True Dharma Eye)

SEASONINGS (HAIKU)

 

above only sky
beneath only dark gray clouds
the sun is content

a mountain of clouds
rises from white tufted bed
the earth is watered

in winter’s icy chill
ripples from autumn’s pebble
await the spring sun

the leafless ginkgo
taunts the first snow of winter
with the dream of spring