For want of a better world,
Kōkai lived apart and walked along the edge of waiting.
Patiently he stifled the embers of his pride, knowing
Nothing was alien to being human. He would work on that.
Today the blossoms were fading and branches
Would soon morph into thin brown scratches against the sky
Cutting the view with sad promises of a questionable Spring.
The raking would need to be done before the warmer winds came.
He walked inside to prepare.

The tea was quietly made, its leaves swiftly floated to the surface.
He look around and saw abundance: the sky at least was clear for now,
The tea warmed his belly,
The night would bring its winds, but he would not shiver in want anymore.

Belatedly, he saw the fox just beyond the fence, catching its tail
As it slid across the wooden chest once used
To store the old stone lanterns, now discarded behind the temple yard,
On its way to the trail leading upwards to the mountain.
It turned and stared at him, an alien with wise eyes and a
Gnostic duty to circle his existence warily, while he tended to his prayers.
What resurrection awaits him who feels the fox´s eyes  so deeply
The sun would engineer another year in a motherly embrace
Calling forth the sonorous bells of summer,
The cicadas calling for a new beginning?


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