ombuddha:

Mountain sounds carry a chill wisdom,
an upwelling spring whispers subtle tales,
pine breezes stir the fire beneath my tea,
bamboo shadows soak deep into my robe.

I grind my ink: clouds scraping across the crags
copy out a verse: birds settling on branches
as the world rolls right on by
its every turn tracing out non-action.

Shih-Shu.

Photo by Debra Josephson.