He Heard Wings

The herons had not appeared for quite some time and he wondered if his presence had finally driven them away. He searched the deep sky above the lake, branches of towering firs, rhododendrons in the shade, and the reeds clustered in marshes and coves. All the places he had ever seen them before. Nothing stirred. A mild panic enclosed him. He needed to see them. To assure himself that he had not broken some vital chain. He began to dream of salamanders and small fish. In the flames of his campfire he heard wings.

Dust Off the Two Bronze Bells
 
Somphoun elects not to climb
The 100 steep steps up to Wat Chom Phet
Instead lies down to nap on naked wood.
As I ascend alone, a mangy dog growls
Barks fiercely then turns tail and vanishes
Silent into the somnolent
Mekong morning.
 
The temple compound is serene
Void of humans
But a statue appears to breathe
The Earth Goddess Nang Thorani
Wringing water from her bibulous mane
To drown the army of the demon Mara
That would stay the Buddha
From his meditation.
 
I sweep the verandah with a worn broom
Dust off the two bronze bells 
Enter the sim to sit in contemplation
Beneath a lustrous crimson ceiling
Carpentered firmament adorned
With florid stencils in gold 
Mice, butterflies, peacocks, and bees
Mythical creatures amid delicate feathers.
 
In the corner, a shining gong I will never hear.

Late afternoon sun on
The jade sparkling stream
I hear your voice in the riffles, soft currents
Soothing whispers, tender murmurs
And joyful sighs
My own voice trembles to answer
To sing you a song
To speak you a poem
Of deep running love and
The deep grief I bear,
Of devotion never dying
Solid like the mountain, like bedrock
But with words like the clouds
Of yesterday
Here then gone
Like you, my angel
My truest love.

Dawn on the river brings
A soft rain, gauzy fog
Geese barking on the sandbar
Wet madrone, color of tobacco
Songbirds muted by mist.

I come from strange dreams
To you, your picture by my bed
Altar of petals, mala, candle
Swath of beautiful fabric gifted
By a loving friend, to honor
Your spirit, your smile the brightest of
Anything in this unfamiliar room
Here by this river with
Its stained-glassy glimmer
Grey clouds and oak leaves weeping.

Distance
 
I know the rain is sad
I know squirrels are thriving
I know birds have their priorities
The clouds eat many days
 
I spill hot liquids all the time
Forget where I have placed crucial items
I eat little and only that which requires
Minimal preparation
I rarely comb my hair
I sleep in fits and starts and
What sleep may come is
Never restful
It takes twice as long as it used to
To read a page or poem
And half the time to forget it
 
All the people are anxious
Pretending so hard they are not
There is bright-colored tape that
Won’t let children swing
Pets are living like kings and queens
Trails through sacred woods go untrodden and
The ripe streams, the dark trees, cheer brightly