When monsoon rains soaked the soil, that old tree toppled. They cut it out of the roadway, & I went out to count its rings, but found it not with hundreds of rings, but hundreds of trunks -- many no more than twigs. What a mighty tree a pile of twigs pressed together can make, & now it's gone.
the knotty tree stretches wide to reach light -- strength from warped fibers
shapeless darkness erupts in blinding form for an instant
under the tree sits a potential Buddha; human mimics tree
a mossy cluster of gold stars grows densely upon a dead branch
morning light catches the moss, and i see it for the first time
tree at the fore; cascades across the chasm, and my eye wanders
a potted bonsai -- twisted, knobbed, and deformed -- stony mountain mind
Tiger Riding for Beginners 