Fan the Sky, Haiku Wilga 2011

Haiku, Summer Ango 2011
Wilga, Poland

The first poem
Lamplight against the zendo wall
Made of sun

Behind the old shack
Heap of tubs and mops
Dropped off one by one

The silence
Peels back the onion
Til there are no more tears

Last bite during orioki
I stain my table clothe
With a bit of jelly

Even during the brightest hour
Half the tree
Stands in the shade

A solitary bird
Sings two notes: yes, no—
And makes music

First breath
Lazy zazen
Smell of sandalwood

Still licking our lips
Swift tug of the curtain
No one sees tenzo

Waiters returning from lunch
Each bench a sleeper
Bonsho softer than birdsong

The girl on the swing
Slow as my daydream
Her bare feet in the grass

In Wilga, red pines
Staircases of torn branches
Fan the sky

Held by the wind
The curtain doesn’t know
Which way it blows

Tibetan prayer flags
Windless and drenched
Stick to their ropes

Songbird brings
The dawn to dusk
And the dusk to dawn

Loose ends of the curtain
Scrape across threshold
Going forward and back

White laced curtains
In the windows of forlorn huts
Is this my mind?

Light cast on the zendo wall
A little girl saying hello
And running away

Ango almost empty
A baby’s doll
Hanging from a young spruce

Behind my mind
The air is thick
With green sunlight

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