working in the garden one mid-october morning
hand in the dirt--three point stance
potato chip crisp cool—salty air from the ocean
lightning bolt sunlight dark sunglasses on
sweeping leaves jump in the pile
-- gathering leaves for future fires
more leaves keep falling all the time on the driveway
my broom is tired and wants a break
chopping some wood with my favorite black axe
carrying some water in my back pocket
straightening stones in the leaf garden
used to be a zen rock garden but it’s gone lazy
trimming trees the buzzin’ of the bees
blue sky white clouds green grass
the hum of the sun drummin’ on me
a brindle dog walked by to see what was going on
stopped to sniff and pee
then trotted off down the rocky ice cream road
tail wagging happy as could be
I wondered aloud silently to myself
does a dog have buddha nature
I ran down the burning road and caught up with the dog
he stopped and stared with big brown eyes
“hey you! do you have buddha nature?”
the dog just looked at me and stuck his tongue out
started running up down the road
leaving me to contemplate by my lonesome unenlightened self
does a dog have buddha nature?
it must be true I thought--he never answered and ran away
