Waiting for the Shakuhachi, I Practice with What I Have
The tone feels round on shorter bottles,
which more closely resemble my shape.
Longnecks pitch lower, while the emptied
pinot requires more controlled air flow.
My grooved fingers fumble in their
search for meaning. I know this silence,
but that one requires more study.
Cool air stumbles in
through the trees.
Ah, autumn’s return.
This first appeared on The Zen Space. Thank you, Marie Marshall, for publishing my work!