Buddha in Sunlight
Our old dog lies on the front porch in sunlight.
He moves as the sun moves, follows it
along the porch, rising slowly, never
going further than is necessary
to stay within the warm curve of worship.
He yawns, scratches, sheer minimalist,
conservation of energy. This morning
a rabbit hopped into the yard,
He lifted his head, eyed it for a moment,
then lowered his head,
closed his eyes.
This is what Buddha taught:
take no interest
in the arising of thought.
The sun moves off the porch;
he descends delicately the way
a nude descends from her bath, and
he finds a place in the grass.
The rabbit nibbles away,
Let it be, Buddha said;
it will settle
Copyright © 2011 by Red Hawk
All rights reserved.
Reproduced by Poetry Daily with permission