秋田
Chinese Maples in brilliant crimson
frame the worn, ship-like timbers
of a temple gate.
The air swirls with the aroma
of burning leaves and sandalwood.
Cirrus clouds at the edge of space
draw my imagination out to
ancient mariners beyond the horizon.
1 comment:
I have never been to a Zen Buddhist temple, but this is exactly the image I would imagine for it. An excellent prose poem
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