TheBanyanTree: nantahala meditations

[Mike Pingleton]

noisy mind, quiet!

your cometary calliope
bruising furrows
in the day's business -
damp down that hornet nest,
the butterflies can't hear
the flowers sing.

without the raucous fuzzbox
the pines are heard to whisper
to the wind.
inside the floating lotus
the why of mountain opens
to the mind.

one foot in front of the other.
one thought before the next,
a string of silent pearls
without soundtrack
or subtext.

the laws of birds are written
on the wind;
my meditations mastered
under bone.
this morning on the mountain's back
the sky begins just underneath
my shoes.