Shadows on the Shell

 

There's so much to do,
But the bright sun and shadows
Pull like a siren.

 

 My wobbling table
Reminds me again and again:
"Nothing is stable."

Shadows on the shell;
Webs weave below the Buddha
(And he's still smiling.)

Shadows on the road;

Warm, acrid smell of wood smoke;

Hens cluck in their coop. 

Time for gloves again
One more layer between me
And the naked road.

Green leaves in the cold
Defying winter's approach
Continue to glow.

Flash of tiny wings
Flee swiftly across the road;
Then the hawk takes leave.

The two stump buddies
Seem to be growing apart--
Ravages of age.

When did this tree fall?
How long before it dissolves
Into its mother?