diana lynn

Zen Master Outhouse


tuck shirt in pants

buckle back up

mittens on

no delay this December morning.


Steep trek uphill 

not far to the warm cabin 

and tea

done this a million times

and in snow even deeper.


along the narrow trail

brush up against 

fresh white powder 

falling off branches

falling on to my boots


at my elbow,

one perfect

wild rose bud,

tight and green

small as the baby's 



And here I thought 


was the first day 

of winter. 








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