Poetry

This antique morning is

The consummation of history.
Shoguns arose, worlds warred,
And numberless processions passed
Like thunder in a bonsai garden
To prepare for this -
My green sencha tea with wedges of lime.
How grave and staggering my debt to the world is!
Centering, I dip my fingers reverently
Into a bamboo bucket
To douse my face with spring water.
I marvel that the sky shivering there
Is a blue witness to the direst ordeals
Of countless, faceless rascals and questers
Disinterestedly being us.