yellow flowers face the four directions, as if true trumpets
Yellow Trumpet Vine [Haiku]
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a discard pile of lifelines - money & pseudo-money - technologies & redundancies some donated, some burnt, & some left to be found by the willing & the grateful he walked with a cloak, a staff, a satchel, & a bowl he walked until it hurt & kept walking until his prided died then took what was given & lived without what wasn't everything beyond food, water, & air became a burden while finding food, water, space, & the means of cleanliness became the sum of all endeavors the terror-bliss barrier took time to break down, but when it did... how free he was
At dusk, the temple yard is silent. A twiggy tree twists and leans, shading no one but seemingly stretching toward something unknown. Nothing can be heard, save the buzz of low-flying insects when they get too near. Then someone clangs the brass bell -- just one sharp snap of the bell tongue. But the tone hangs in the night air, piercing something unseen. temple yard at dusk, the silence is broken by the brass bell