From the Hara

Walking from the Hara

I stop under a willow to gaze:

Mallard drifting in frontyard pond

Asleep.

Yellow #2’s draped around me

New buds piercing through

A chance to inspect

Uniform intelligence.

Breathing from the Hara

I look into Buddha’s eyes from some dimensionless Paradise.

Heart beats to the rhythm of the crows song.

What is the space thoughts speak into.

I’m always telling stories

And always willing to listen