Thursday, November 20, 2014


I always say . . .
I will take these cookies 
And they will 
Last all week 

I will measure them out 
So many each day 
And have great willpower 
About it

I hesitate to mention 
how many times 
I have had this same plan . . .

I hesitate to admit 
That now, on the first day 
Of contemplation 
There are only 
     A few left 

And those will do 
After dinner 

However I do not despair 
About this 
For in my great wisdom 
I know -
I have 
     Lots more things 
Of so much greater importance 
     To despair 
Much more deeply 

Bored Already

At the retreat
The worldly mind wonders 
     Why I come here 
Mine and others too -

What do you do 
There ? 
Just to meditate and walk 
And watch 
Deer walk by 
And squirrels climb 
To the sky 

To hear the rain drops 
From the high trees 
As the squirrels 
The leaves 

And a family of deer walk by 
Mom and dad and two young 

After a meditation 
Such things 
Seem to have
     deep meaning . . .

Back in town 
It is hard to 
Slow down 
Enough to hear 
The wind in the trees 
The birds call 

The freeway roar 
Tends to wash away 
Whatever quiet 
The mind has 
     Aspired to 

But here
The loudest sound 
Is in my head 
Complaining of being bored