Second Rohatsu in the hut, she feels
cycles of living/not living,
fallen leaves and fallen foxes
fallen snowflakes, falling rain
Sesshin, kinhin, walking meditation, twenty people shuffling gently on the laptop screen behind her; she picks up her cup in passing and pauses to count starlings. When did they begin to stay all winter?
The cries of crickets are already scarce and far between.
The trees and grass have lost their proud summer colors.
The long night often requires a new filling of my censer.
Chill on my skin forces upon me a pile of thick garments.
Let us use our diligence while we may, my gentle friends,
Time flies like an arrow and lingers not a moment for us.
--Ryokan, tr. Nobuyuki Yuasa, Zen Poems of Ryokan, 75
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