Arts + Scene » Poetry

zen master outhouse



tuck shirt in pants
buckle back up
mittens on
no delay this day.

trek uphill
not far to the warm cabin
                  and tea.
done this a million times
in snow even deeper.

along the narrow trail
brush up against
fresh white powder
                  falling on my boots
                  falling off branches

one perfect
wild rose bud,
tight and green
                  small as the baby's

And here i thought
next week
was the first day
of winter.

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