didn’t hear a sound.
too busy thinking
to pay attention,
today the gurgling brook
and birdcalls echo
deep in the forest.
clodding of boots
reverberate on the path—
blue lichen and green moss
cling to rocks and trees.
dead leaves
and decaying branches.
cover the forest floor
new life springing forth
from winter weary branches
today is the last day of kyol che
what am I?
“DON’T KNOW!”
when the walk is over
we clean the mud from our boots.
Diamond Hill Zen Monastery
1997
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