A wet and whiny stray dog.
Some days clean and bright, other days a mess.
Soggy, I may snap.
Or I may defend you.
Pat my head, I am your friend.
I sleep on your porch and sometimes run away when you approach.
I'm glad you are there.
I fear you see me only as ugly-dog, unkempt, crude.
I sniff an old bag of chips outside the temple wall,
And sit, in dog zazen, to listen to the chanting, 'till a flea bites, and I am scratching-scratching.
Watch my shiny eyes as they follow a falling cherry blosom.
Even I have buddha-nature.
1 week ago