Old grey Buddha rock
mountain side
two feet high
solitary
and flat on top
so that for thousands
of years
beings have rested
upon it’s mossy comfort
From forest spirit,
to elk,
to man,
to man
Meditating tops and bottoms
Mountains, valleys
the bright orange of
dying pine trees
the delicate wonder of
Lady Slippers
Cinderella running
from the forest
into an uncertain carriage
a band of crows
leading the way
in cawing trumpetry
The Prince chasing after
unable to reach her
that plucked flower
still in his hand
She is gone from him
there is no foot
that will fit
Sets himself on old Buddha rock
and strokes the petals
as his legs fall asleep.