June Zazenkai (Chōka)

waiting for a breeze,

a brown bead of a spider

pauses, watches me,

bending to clean the entry,

hands in lather snow.

one deer follows another,

then springs up the hill

he sees us at the window

two ghosts in shadow,

taking refuge in the dark.

silted water slides,

flooding makes a shallow flow

over lost pavement.

someone knew we were coming:

stones walk single file.

the amber cast is empty,

ring the hollow bell!

I can claim none of these gifts,

but I keep them anyway.