July 29^th, 2015

Mind, mind, mind—
Above the Path.
Here on my mountain,
Gray hair down,
I cherish bamboo sprouts,
Brush carefully
By pine twigs.
Burning incense,
I open a book:
Mist over flagstones.
Rolling the blind,
I contemplate:
Moon in the pond.
Of my old friends,
How many know the Way?