Walking In Woods

A buzz saw crumbles sawdust Heard not seen Three brown alder leaves, Dangle out of season Water falls thin and weak's An old man's pee In the oak tree's hollow Tiny whorls and cracked bark Holding hidden tenants Tits swerve round a feeder Replete with seeds The mandala at the shrine room's A wooden moon Orbited by galaxies of insects The grass cutter's spared The forget-me-nots Six resting flies breathe thanks Ten single raindrops on a shining leaf Like little pearly spinsters Between place of spirit and air The bee, the buzzard, circling Stripped of swaddlings and trappings Into the pond of the mind Dropped scenes form ripples A purple butterfly Opened it's wings It's face, a violet's heart Yields up her scent Gifts her seeds for thought