even the bees
can't take it - curling up
in the summer heat
Thru distant hazy clouds
appears the heart of autumn -
October's full moon
The water flowing -
a white butterfly passes
not hearing a sound
Roadside dead squirrel
brought tears to my eyes -
or was it
the falling snow?
Wasp in my beer - now
that you are dead I return
you to the garden
Cricket in my bedroom -
is that my heart ticking away
in the night?
Evening sunset -
dandelion seeds tumbling
over fresh cut fields
First winter Redwing
in the garden - the shortest day
somehow seems so long
April's first cuckoo
coughing & cackling overhead
so soon out of sight
ELEGIES FOR JOAN
We live in the world as if in the sky
Just like a dream
a bubble - August waning moon
fills heart & sky
(25/08/97)
Spider on mothers
bedside table - I put him
out in the garden
(30/08/97)
Skylark ascending
as I scatter mothers ashes
around the roses
(3/09/97)
Robins autumn song -
how can he know the sadness
that lays on my heart
(3/09/97)
Clouds piling up -
feels like the end of summer
as I mow the lawns
(7/09/97)
Mother
transformed into a rose -
our garden the hearts desire
Bill Wyatt's mother Joan Darling Hudson died suddenly on Monday 25
August. She was aged 77 and very sprightly
Just for a moment
they came tumbling down
spring snowflakes
Sitting silently
doing nothing -
spring arrives all by itself
Now motherless
i forget to buy daffodils
on mother's day
morning meditation -
out of the blue, a swallow
pops into my mind
Night of endless rain -
how refreshing the sound
of the zazen bell
Morning service -
the snow on my zafu
was it a dream?
Afternoon zazen -
rain on the rooftops, in one ear
and out the other!
Stacking winter logs
i rescue a wolf spider
from a fiery end
On the telephone
a voice from the distant past -
early winter rain
Nothing to avoid
as late sunset falls behind
the pines & vast sky
Broken pine branch moon -
a robin starts to sing about
the season's first frost
Walking up the hill -
but no longer a burden
the clouds on my back
Still feeling homeless
I let the winter wind blow
away this sadness
Winter persimmons -
how they bring to mind the blush
of that first kiss
With the winter rain
a robin hopping - hopping
into endless dusk
Wind brings lonesome thoughts -
in the middle of the night
a poem comes to mind
(on my 58th birthday)