Thursday, April 7, 2011

April 7

Sitting by the compost pile on
Buddha’s birthday.
No sweet rain or blossoms
No swooping dragons like on that day
Just a moldering orange peel
Brown leaves and memories,
And deep down
Fungi and earthworms,
Turning and turning
The world in motion
The world in this moment,
Change that the Buddha would recognize
And regard as right.
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