Tuesday, September 29, 2015

Buddha Sits

                          Sitting on our porch, sacred sanctuary, 

              Buddha sits
               under the birch tree, sedum blooming at his side
               solid rock surroundings.

                           Breakfast eaten, green tea sipped, water bottle emptied.
                           I sit, 
                           wondering about words from 
                            pen to paper scribbled

  A sacred journey continuing, chosen 
  work, to be, 
  with Buddha, Jesus, Allah, Krishna, Mother...

          Contemplative, reflective, aware of breath, of
          sound, grateful for butterfly, hummingbird, ripening tomatoes, 
          My home built many years before ( over 100 I am told) 
          a sure foundation holds it still.

                             Holds me, the sacred stories time unfolds, within, around

          a treasure to being, so often filled, 
          by questioned uncertainty, shoulded messages.

                              I sit
                              pen in hand, two pink roses call me, 
                              rain specked, bending in the breeze, being, just being
                              Being just being, a writer, sitting pen in hand, 
                              words emerge, sometimes, surprising me, life's invitation
Gentle breezes blow. 

gkn, sept. 2015



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