A Gentle Snow
November,
just the three of us
in the hot spring pool,
overlooking the fallow fields of
the deep valley,
we sit.
Within the murmurs and crackles
and sweet smell of the woods
a bird calls.
Brilliant red maples
move in the lazy breeze against
the leaden sky.
In the soothing water
in silence
we sit.
And then
a gentle snow.
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I always hoped that after the snow began falling, while we sat in the rotemburo, the snow monkeys would come in out of the woods and join us for a bath. Your poems are zenny and remind me of Kobayashi Issa's poems. I bumped into this nice zen poetry archive with his works and other works: http://thezenfrog.wordpress.com/2007/07/19/kobayashi-issa-cicada-haiku-poems-cicada-song-pouring-down/
ReplyDeletetheron