Haiku

This early in winter it takes only one unseasonably warm and sunny day and the flies reappear from somewhere . . . one entered uninvited and found my little shrine.

 

 

in Buddha's cupped hand

the fly finds a place to pray

sutra without words





Poetry by countryfog
Read 809 times
Written on 2014-01-02 at 15:30

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Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
We have been so mild here, there are still ants and little lizards crawling throuogh the stone work - you have to admire their tenacity

Happy New Year

Elle x
2014-01-02



In my medicine cabinet
the winter fly
has died of old age

—Jack Kerouac

The cycle, always the cycle
2014-01-02