White mountain

blowing on my tea
hands gentle
around a tin cup
hoping I can sip the summer
and be with the falling leaves

feasting
on pine needles
I drink in the gathas ;
I’ve forgotten to beg for food
and the blossoms keep falling

so alone up here
I startle
hearing my own laugh
this attachment to solitude
is so good

how soon
the night sinks
behind the trees
as if the perfumed plums
is the land of the Buddhas

***Haiku Presence
Issue 56 (October 2016)***

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