Come to me
down winding way
hemmed with audience
of grayed rock faces,
glistening as ancient throng,
granting silent approval
of noble passing.
Step softly, dear one,
into the gentle garden
slender hands have tended
as years watched
the turning of supple soil,
rich with tender anticipation
of loftier coming.
Shed the dust of muddled earth,
at first,
in roji dew ground
where water sprinkles all
who enter quiet sanctuary
Walk to me
among flawless flowers, tall,
adorning narrow path
as nectared walls; but stop
for moment’s cleansing
at tsukubai,
my bowl of stone laid low
and filled with purest fluid
to rinse the scent of brother’s blood
or hint of mired heart
from off your troubled hands
Follow me
across trickling stream
where bridge is belt
that joins jade flanks
of grassed kimono--
embroidered embankments of elegance
flowing in snapdragons, spilling fire,
and cherry blossoms glowing
in threads of silken string--
that lead to humble tea hut
where bonsai’s branches
bow in reverence.
Bend with me, teishu, host;
pass low from knoll,
through needle’s eye of door
where stature matches
and humility speaks,
--silent, but heard--
Like decrees of hallowed scroll
(hung alone on alcove wall)
where bokuseki inscribed
an ancient writ
with calligriphy of the wise
Sit with me
upon tatami reeds
backs long and aligned
like stems of summer irises
ordered now, there in chosen vase,
our heads bent in reverent awe
like tiger lilies bowing
to raindrops.
Let us speak complete
of universe--
ladeled into bowl
sewn into cloth, and woven into fan.
Let us wonder together
you and I,
at kettle filled with watered yin, steaming,
and hearth inflamed with inscensed yang
filling hut with swirls of sandlewood
intoxicating,
inspiring
trained minds
Sip with me
the thick of koicha,
exalting it
upon left–armed pedestal,
and turning art of bowl’s adrorment
outward,
(as smile,
reflecting treasured heart's containment).
Then wipe with cloth
in practiced, mellow motion,
the warm residue of moistened lips
clinging yet to rim
like sap lingering upon maple garden's
seeping trunks.
And sip again,
of thinned usucha
whisked with bamboo-fingered chasin
to frothy green
that swallows soft,
as broth to nourish spirit.
Breathe with me
the air of God
while mind infuses
perfect musings
and heart beats tunes
to streams of ripples
upon water and universe’s fabric,
learning the rhythmic swelling
of the path to hallowed Essence.
Gold trophy winner
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