The Rains Retreat

Parched summer sky:
but let my vows rain through
and every leaf and all places be washed

and aspiration spread its span
and the eye of all things open –
unadopted, coolly present.


Beautiful regard:
late summer evening.

Among the tremors of intent
the martins’ wings flick the pond
with the harmonies of vanishing.


Leaving October
a bright moon after the storm
in and out of the clouds.

Morning will bring more rain,
present the shining of dead leaves;
and, like the richest seeing,
a mist that penetrates the bone.

From: Travels in the Middle Land, Dhamma Moon, 2013.

Posted: Tue 17 Nov, 2009