Buddha Nature
The red-light blinking all night on Main St. The storefront’s
Plate glass window in the vast blue sky. In the garden
By the fence under the direction of the stars, or hidden
Behind the Quick Oats. With the children on the trampoline
In the green shade. Mahler on the kitchen radio and the pile
Of sodden leaves. That slant of shadows on the plaster Madonna
When the house is empty. And sometimes a bowl of sugar
Or a flash of sunlight in the spinning prism. Holding hands
And singing as the hay wagon rocks and rattles by the neighbor
Eviscerating his crappies, smoking in the rain. And the parking meter
And the motorcycle reflected in it. And the photograph of the astronaut
In space floating on his back across the sea, carrying a twig to a nest
Atop a column in the ruins. By the chain-link fence and the
Broken-down Buick in the snow staring out its windshield
Of pure consciousness.
Someday your gang will understand what this means and how lucky they are to have such a loving father.