Zen Gold by Ann E. Michael
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| Image | Mitch Kesler |
Zen Gold
One yellow leaf drifting on a breeze’s
invisible path—
no — a butterfly’s black-fringed symmetry
in the sun’s slant.
Yellow as —
morning glory leaves in drought,
gold heart shapes before meadow begins
its goldenrod dazzle.
The sun goes down, the heat of
day sucked away
into the hard ground or the woods’
shadows
and it is finally bearable to sit outside
as birds roost and crickets buzz.
A fly crawls into my wine glass
circumambulates the cylinder then
falls into the drink, so I assist it —
my finger a lifesaver. I am the fly’s Bodhisattva.
I’ve sometimes failed in compassion,
I know this act does not balance the past.
Look there — yellow moon now rising!
© Ann E. Michael
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Ann E. Michael
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