Morning raga
A rain-slick ghosts the paddocks
before dawn; cloud cover stays,
rent here and there by stars,
moon's tarnished horn.
Along the asphalt, headlamps
stab through darkness -
women walking dogs
catapult to daybreak
on those blinding shafts.
Termites on the home track
shore up nests, anticipating showers,
while the dogs bound on the scent
of quarry that has slipped away.
Quartz pebbles surround the house,
hard bubbles raddled with soft umbels;
wrens and wagtails flit through fronds,
grey doves shyly nibble grain.
Concealed behind leaf-woven screens,
tiny throats are tinkling -
water droplets, temple trinkets:
Zen masters at play…
Zen masters at play
© Copyright: Jena Woodhouse, 2006
Свидетельство о публикации №106062700374
Свидетельство о публикации №106062700374
Рецензии