Garden of thought

Waiting for a soul’s call

the swirls in the pebbles

the ripples in the lake

the heartbeats of the crane

at rest you echo

your steps slow on the incline

and on entering the balcony at the third story of the pagoda

the woods nod and wake

the stone lamp sentinels

the pagoda oversees

gardeners are busy from daybreak to twilight

the monk arrives just before new moon

and sits

This poem was published in the Red Letter Poem series; scroll down to No. 9.

Andy Oram
April 17, 2020