"Hidden Mountain"

In the Saha world,

where falsehoods hold sway,

staying true is an art form.


Leaf underfoot

fern on branch

crow-calls deeper in the wood.

The Pure Land

is just out from town.


Worm-hunting wrens at dawn

completely ignore

my need for sleep.


Despite Winter’s grasp

I can still hear

the haunted chirping

of katydids.


Beautiful, beleaguered world

Heart-Eye open ---

Winter gratitude.


Fifty years of wandering

only to become

a hidden mountain

nestled within a city.