In a Zen Garden

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Image: Cedric Sam

 

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Kegon hears the knock,
but does not answer it: bam­boo on rock.

He smiles to the mirror-pool, picks,
from his teeth, gomae seed with grass blade.

On his knees, pats moss grass—
toes it as he stands in Mountain Pose,

moves to Crane Pose, big toe thumbs
the moss smooth. In Warrior—

hands swish at fallen leaves — Hoover
Pose: he pock­ets a pink candy wrap­per, still sticky.

Bamboo rake at hand, Kegon sweeps
a sun shape into rock-pebble bed — swoosh of air

as he spins the rake, hangs it, his arms like buck­ets
of water, to tip­toe to stone path, spins jo-pole,

flicks dried bird shit off bonsai’d maple leaf
and with pink candy wrap­per, scoops it.

Rock-sculpted sun stays its shape in white stone.
In shaded cor­ner, Kegon spots chipped rock, fallen

from stone lantern — jams glob­ule of candy wrapper’d
guano, smears and reat­taches chipped lantern corner,

it holds. Kegon bows to slow-sinking evening sun. Swings,
pole, sojutsu, knocks low­est peach from high­est branch—

catches peach in right hand, hobo sticks pole,
walks in leafy shade.

Kegon twirls rake pole, bats peach pit to neigh­bour­ing bath­house.
Hears it ping on gomi bin. Bell of stone on metal

He one-handed quick flips rake pole to lean on bam­boo fence,
nods to life’s con­nect­ed­ness, turns on slipper’d heel,

walks tall so ever­green scents his finger-combed hair,
bows to koi in pond, lets them clean their own house.

Kegon finds moss rock pil­low, grass-coated ledge, and beds.
Eyes closed, he finds the sil­ver screen inside his tem­ple mind.