Dharma of the Day #25 {forest , prāna}

from time to time

go take a walk in the forest

is it a silent place?


find yourself a clearing

sit with your back

up against a tree


clear your mind

and truly listen

is it silent now?


listen even more deeply

can you hear the drums?

that is your blood pulsing


when a bird comes along

look only sideways at it

do not stare!


become quizzical like a bird

turn your head

from side to side, weigh time


put out your hands

palms upwards

now juggle an imaginary ball


don’t drop it!


juggle it carefully

much like a fresh egg

soften each impact


how do your hands feel now?


try to inhale all the forest

through only your nose

exhale slowly, through your mouth


that my friend

is the smell of prāna!

can you also, hear it?


from time to time

go take a walk in the Forest

is it a silent place?

Forest “Haiku”

take off your shoes

stretch out toes

arching the foot


now step into verdant

on soft wet earth

and, tickling leaves


run fingers in ferns

the exquisite fronds

each, an eternity, making


the pungent evergreen

still, pining for a lover

in a scented envelope


a gnarled old oak

staunch and dependable

waits table, upon spring


he serves up only

finest bluebell champagne,

no more need of ice


the tapestry spiders

have been busy

catching tears in their gloves


the armoured holly

pierces a red blood sky

burying the past


the filigree ivy

relaxes and unwinds,

a cobra salutes the sun


no hot red coals

but soft green needles

soothing only, naked feet


the trees huddle so close

and bend to hug

they love a weary pilgrim


they offer a salve

and a nectar,

he drinks with desert thirst


such an ointment this

it soothes and balms,

a gurgling brook laughs


the forest is both

a doctor and a nurse

it opens a sacred tincture


the forest spirit

stands in the clearing

and with a twinkle, he smiles

Silent Forest

Turning left off the beaten path

following a deer run

through the ochre ferns

legs whiplash washed in passing


Voices and barks fade

as the hush starts to envelop

dripping wringing cloth damp

the mossy beards contemplate


The very time drop of tears


Squirrels scratch chalk boards

scurrying heaven wards

away from the intruder


Sat now oaken stumped

clearing the clarified butter

of thoughts to spread

upon the loaven slices of, silence


Freshly baked aromas


Cobweb calm and pine

amongst the scented rugs

laid wall to wall

and coned off from the world


Hern the hunter, pauses

proud and watchful

over the portal to Annwn

his domain


His eyes a quiver of questions


In the silent forest

the heartbeat slows largo down

breath bewitches a mist

on the cool canvas here


Sitting ancient hours long

the forest watches

its newest son

waiting for his belonging


Time stands statue still


Hern gives his knowing nod

and again, the forest lives

He is welcome here

He is home….