Brief pre-winter days:
a noon sun perched just
centimetres above
the jackpine’s crest.
Giving little warmth,
the sun seems
merely a spark,
an ember in the primitive pipe
of the shaman,
as he dreams
reality
and fantasy,
and all combined.
The dog, the jays, the old man
all knew
winter was coming,
but, here... now...
the feeble sun
traces shadows,
and summer glories
echo echo echo
in the autumn air.
Welcome, and Namaste
Greetings fellow travellers,
For you American friends visiting, you will notice that this old Canadian uses Canadian English in this blog: kindly bear with me. As I blog primarily on subjects that are vitally interesting to me, I appreciate all feedback.
As I tend to be a bit of a language usage freak, I will, as required, edit obscenity and rude comments. That said, I welcome your opinions and discussion.
May your Dharma be clear
Peace
"If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended:
That you have but slumb'red here,
While these visions did appear."
Puck’s epilogue to A Midsummer Night’s Dream
