by Jo Balistreri


Two white-bellied turtledoves, like small
Buddhas, perch on the edge
of a snow-clad branch. They are still,
breathe in, breathe out.
They watch or not the black-masked
cardinal pecking furtively
for hidden seed, the single bronze leaf
tremble as it falls.
If they hear the wind-blown chimes,
they give no nod. They sit zazen.
Perhaps they have reached
enlightenment, imagine the green
spring which is as good as done,
lost as they are in their own creativity.

7 January 2007
Originally appeared in Bellowing Ark