driving slowly
along backroads
the furrowed fields

at the end of the corn fields
the beginning of the runway

10:30 driving around
10:45 driving around 10:50
all morning waiting

mid-morning
a seagull flying overhead
his shadow over the parking lot

walking through the neighborhood
all afternoon
counting flower petals

awakened from
my afternoon reverie
tourists asking directions

“our path is
whatever comes naturally”
the master sneezes – hard

“no mind! no mind!”
the master shouts
a shower of windblown maple seeds

“grow white flowers
in the shit of suffering”
master’s master died

“only this moment”
master’s voice
echoes through the hall

“liberation”
the master says and points
a gull drops a quahog

banging the door
“wake up!” master yells
the old shed collapses

“silence! practice it!”
the master says
suddenly, a ringing in my ears

“the wanting wants
itself” the master chuckles
a hound baying at the moon

“the buddha knows
even war” the master
jumping from stone to stone

“anger obscures all good”
the master folds each page

“you are the many
jeweled buddha,” the master
laughs, dances, is gone

hopping toward me
hopping away from me
the robin on the sidewalk

slinging her coat
across the back of the chair
a cold breeze

kicking to shake the snow from my boots
water spots on the wood floors

praying a thousand thousand Aves
age spots
spreading over my hands