The evening warm for a December day,
the air quiet, gentle, comforting in its caress,
the woods piled high with the fall’s bounty
the leaves spreading their decaying perfume ,
frankincense like to my perception.
In one small part of forest
surrounded by small roads on all sides,
contains a beautiful Bamboo crop,
some tall and green
others moving towards yellow,
many fallen and like the leaves
slowly being absorbed into the earth.
Not a sound,
well one,
the lonely song of a Cricket,
a vespers of sorts for the ending of its day,
nothing else,
just peace,
quiet,
no sound.
I walked across the levee
observing both ponds
their water level lower than I have ever seen,
yet enough,
a long way off to being depleted.
Along the sides there are two trees
long since fallen halfway into the water
taking years to die,
now both at rest,
their limbs forming a twisted
though beautiful sculpture
that I always stop and admire.
Then the fields,
grass low,
almost white dormant
also sleeping the winter away.
Some deer grazing,
not finding me a threat
though curious as usual
but not for long;
soon they return to feeding.
Moving my prayer rope slowly though my fingers,
repeating the Holy Name,
my mind quiet
I simply enjoyed my walk.
