coffee pot that was

TODAY
the coffee pot boiled over
boiled over I say.
The other day
our house blow away
So today we're camping in the yard,
and the coffee pot boiled over on
the fire we made in the shade
of ye olde magnolia tree .

:-)
-papermoon

Today a burning stick of wood
flickering the campfire
turns itself into incense;
It's fragrance drifts through the trees.

The mountain peaks reach up to
touch the rising sun.
True, they pointed my way to here.
And now,
For a cup of warmth to drink,
I burn sticks of deadwood in a
pool of firelight by the trail....

Just before dawn we hear waterfalls,
We are refreshed by their cool dampness.
We see green moss growing all
over the rocks on each side of
the indistinct path and we know
we are almost there.

:-) -papermoon

In the stillness of timeless time,
leaf turns loose from tree
drifting off to sleep
snuggles down to ground

Resting all night longs
sleeping deep and true
dreaming dreams unknown

wake in morning dew

living life each day

in grace and beauty sweet

walking through a world

of flowers at your feet.

:-)

There's nothing here but sky,
earth, falling waters, and a patch of
green grass around to make a home.
Needing only the moon for a lamp at night,

a fallen log for a seat among flowers and shrubs,

and birds and squirrels for neighbors,

The joys of solitary contemplation can

carry one beyond the beyond.
-papermoon

White clouds lying low. Snow.

Under white clouds lying low,
Betwixt and between winter and spring.
No flying snow.
I sit on a ledge waiting.
For what I don't know.
Perhaps for violets to start to grow.
Or springs of water from crevices to flow.
Or a rocky brown hillside where green things grow.
:-)

Little Brown Wren

I think so!
Ten thousand sutras
Can be sung with one song...
This morning I myself,
alone with the garden,
the little brown house wren
standing on a post, the sun,
the wind, the little cricket in
the grass, all that was!
Was All Together!
It came to pass!
The song of nature did
sing ten thousand sutras to me!
:-)

Unaware of visions or
Time of day I stand and
From this block of wood I see
The seven steps ascending.
Up, up, past the clearwater creek,
where a three-day rain has
burbled it over and spilled it all over
the green mossy rock I usually sit on.
I move slowly on through, wading the
ankle deep coolness of that spilled
over rainfall and return home with my
basket brimful of Daily Bread.
:-)

The waterlily pond has long since
gone dry and overgrown with weeds.
I stand on the deck this evening beside
what used to be it's water's edge.
It is dripping diamonds on it's
rain wet leaves with the moon and
stars; I see an armadillo appear from
it's den of darkness to drink of the
dew and wake from it's day of hidden
sleep. At that very moment I wake for-
ever from my own sleep of the world.

Delicious to eyes
Each in it's own good season
Fruits fall ripe from trees

...

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Linji...When things come up....

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