The budding Buddha in me
searches for the Bodhi tree,
but it’s shut down.
My hungry mind casts about
for cafes of thoughtfulness,
but they’ve shut down.
My heart seeks that bridge
with our lock on it,
but (sad, sad) it too shut down.
Maybe a small emotional loan
collateralized by some idealism?
Sorry, the Compassion Office
just shut down.
So I walk the dog to the treed park
and spot the masked men in camo,
definitely not shut down.
Up in the sky there’s the scratch
of the fighter jet, what can you expect?
Not shut down.
I remember Buddha says suffering
receives only more suffering
as a return on its ample investment.
It’s why in a time of ever-present
malevolence and strictures,
I seek signs that it’s not over yet.
Like my dog suddenly espying a bird,
the bird winging into blue space,
followed by a single red leaf
that pirouettes, gently lands
right at my feet.