We’ll All Need An Usher One Day

Sat under a tree

and watched a bird die.

Sat there next to it

talking, crazy, so

it wouldn’t feel alone

when it died. Feeling…

Like I know what birds

might feel; broken neck,

close to death, singing,

flying. Either way

I sat there talking

to the bird, its head

flopped off to one side,

until that last time

its eyes opened wide

(Did it look at me?)

then closed on what’s next.

The Weaving

 

I was thinking about

the significance

of the Buddha’s hand

position That right one,

fingertips to Earth.

The left cradling a lotus,

opening     arms

to receive light and waves

of the sun.

 

The thread weaving

on   the    wide,   wide

sheet of it all,     bodies

a kind of needle and straw

 

Rain falling and soaking

into the dirt (how

deep?) and flames

racing up into nothing

(heading for the sun?)

 

I closed my eyes and breathed.