My small hut of dreams
surviving all alone atop of hill
covered all around with huge deodar trees
of muddy wall and slanting roof sill

Ginger and cardamom tea
near the orange fire place
reading journals
I will live , capturing the first snow in days

freshly baked potato in oven clay
sprinkled rock salt with melted cheese
fragrant leaves of corainder
lingers on and stays

sweet and sour taste of wine
from the close by farm of grapes
friends and family gather everynight
over dinner and United prays

bells echoing mystery in the air
far from the temples on a difficult mountain
where path to heavens looks reachable
trekking the rocks in sun and in rain


Manisha

where we live
in our temples
we light lanterns

so many plants,
gathered and dried
placed carefully
smoldering

the rising smoke
allows us to see the low
trembling

more pervasive than a wind
a bounty of your spirit
enlivening, riotous,
and your own universe
of kindness

we can never know what to expect
but we like what we are hearing