Zen Garden Moment in my Hood
Garden Zen Moment in the Neighborhood
A day is as long as the muscles are sore.
The breeze blows over the rippling bay.
The sweat on one’s brow is about to break as the weather
lays wedged between spring and summer.
Rubber skids slides along the pebbly asphalt.
A home passed a thousand times beckons the eye.
Pupils dilate and follows the rubber to a halt.
Concrete blocks, plastic planters, metallic hooks, are one with sculpted branches.
A mind rests, the eyes are dazzled.
All is a silent moment in the hood.