Callous
as it carves an arc
the scythe knows not of the grass
or cares of its fate
–
autumn wind
swirling oak leaves
carried aloft
as it carves an arc
the scythe knows not of the grass
or cares of its fate
–
autumn wind
swirling oak leaves
carried aloft
patiently waiting
the river of time seems to
slow to a trickle
–
mayflies
in the pond
a snapping turtle
spying Earth from space
a hard reminder of our
insignificance
–
a sand grain
amidst the
multitude
the clinking of ice
he signals the bartender
for just one more drink
–
false dawn
an owl returning
to it’s nest
concentric ripples
spreading across the surface
of a misty lake
–
lakeshore
a striped bass
breaks the surface
the spinning wheel turns
fingers idly making thread
while the mind wanders
–
adrift
on a sea
of imagination
the weathered old man
makes peace with the universe
tending his bonsai
–
fiddlehead ferns-
seeking god in
the golden ratio
faintly glowing stars
the ancient light a missive
from the distant past
–
a moonless night
our path defined
by starlight
shouting at the void
trying to keep the silence
from smothering me
–
rain falls
on a carpet
of autumn leaves
the wellspring of souls
beckons inexorably
for us to return
–
the bodisattfa
compassionately
delays nirvana