June 16th, 2020
Unaware of illusion or enlightenment,
From this stone I watch the mountains,
Hear the stream.
A three-day rain has cleansed the earth,
A roar of thunder split the sky.
Ever serene are linked phenomena
And though the mind’s alert,
It’s but an ash heap.
Chilly, bleak as the dusk I move through,
I return, a basket brimmed with peaches on my arm.