round midnight
we take our zafus
from the meditation hall
and go out onto the verandah
for night sitting

five of us in a line
overlooking
an immaculately raked
gravel garden
backed by tall cedars

we sit in zazen
and breathe in
and out
the cold
night air

I see the silhouette
of the temple gate
against the starlit sky
the shadow of the eaves
on the white sand

the priest today
talked about non-duality
no separation
but I hear you out there
by the willow weeping

I sped to the temple.
Breaking human laws,
to align with universal ones.

I approached.
As my brow lowered,
grace entered my being.

Sunlight greeted me.
As I slowly passed
A stone Buddha.

No one was around.
Monks must be out.
Only a bird sat and sang
to all the flowers.
~
As I entered the main hall,
the wood creaked beneath me,
And my awareness became acute.

The large Buddha towered
over a myriad of empty zafus.
All in accordance and order.

I sat, emulating the statue.
Even my temporal imperfections
matched the stone carvings.
Yet, my mind was with the bird.

I stretched out my legs,
toward the wall,
after a long sit.
The flowers were still after a breeze
And that bird had flown away.