On the sacred paths
Of holy Daishi
Of dusty pilgrims
And forest deities
Tall cedars breathe.
I inhale
their endless quiet
their deep kinship.
Exhale my unquiet mind
Another step
On softly fallen needles
and carefully worn stones
On light scattered,
In random paths
Of geometric lines
breaching
the canopy overhead
Of this island haven
Where water warmed
Deep inside the earth
Tugs at pilgrims’ dust
And the sun sets
Before the next dawn.

Step further with me
Little songbird