where mountain boulders stand
bird soars in liquid sky
Inspired by Suzanne’s On the Road, my haiku emerges from a memory of a retreat where I spent hours walking through shady woods on rough rock paths. I recall a clearing on a small hilltop where a stupa stood.
Monks at the foot of the mountain offered rooms, then we climbed the ridge to the temple, scrambling up through ancient gnarled pine and oak, gray smooth stones and moss. The temple doors, built on rocks, were bolted. I crawled among boulders to make my bows at shrines. The silence was profound. I sat, feeling my heart begin to open.
From Basho’s “Narrow Road to the Deep North” quoted here.