zen moment

Crow on the neem tree tells me
there’s a visitor at the door

*
Cloud in my terrace this morning
in the water drained from the pots

*
I am subletting my mind
wisp of smoke rents a corner

*
I hang my memories there
on clothesline to sun out the mold

*
Crushed dream – zinnia in the pot
the basil sings its dirge

*
Dance of flame when I close my eyes
singes my iris, turns it black

*
Fishing banana slices from oatmeal
sun slants, draws patterns on my feet

*
Apple peel on the table
yellow brown edges of faded hope

*
Muezzin’s prayer call at crack of dawn
flower lies on the ground in submission

Poem A Day

Inspired by Hanshan’s beautiful lines from ‘Cold Mountain’
I write this poem: and yet,
In this poem there is no Zen

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