Nancy Gaffield
The Bamboo Temple
Pursuing the crane I follow
the river that leads to a grove
of bamboo. Here the koto sound
of water charms the emerald canes
that creak and click in the wind.
My companion turns to speak:
this is your path, your own feet
will do, and takes his nine steps
before flying.
What amiable accident
has led me to the Bamboo Temple!
Here it is safe to open the hand of thought.
A few spent camellias lie like drops of blood
on a carpet of moss. There’s no one to blame—
this is who I am and have been all along.
Page(s) 25
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