The Garden Buddha
sits
between
the
Rosemary, Dahlia and Boronia
fragrances in the breeze
Welcoming Accepting
the sun, the rain,
the star lite night sky
fierce frozen mornings
the snow when it comes,
the spiders, the slugs, the mosquitoes, the flies
Garden Buddha
quarter smile
whether or not
I sit beside him,
Unattached to all he sees
a study in the 7 Dharmas.
The Garden Buddha
being is all he knows.
While I worry
about this and that
fearful thoughts in the days and nights
all attached
to
love and loss,
fears and triumphs
births and debts,
what people think
will poems trend
whether there is food on the table
whether work will extend
whether or not I am part of the latest fashion trend.
The Garden Buddha
doesn't care or not care
about any of those things
his eyes
never waver
they always look inside out
outside in.
The Garden Buddha
stone of course
his smile
never goes away.
In the end, though,
nature will always have the last say
I can accept it
or not
Be filled with longing
suffering or accepting
life on life's terms
The Garden Buddha
will be here
long after
my last
dying day.
Not a practicing Buddhist, but have always had a fascination with attachment, longing and acceptance.