Zen In The Driveway


There is a little puddle
in the driveway
from yesterday’s rain
that now has
a fringe of white
lacy ice around it’s edges,
as if it is trying to close
itself off from the
frigid air above.
And leaves roll
across the ground
with an old paper
sound, blown by a wind
that feels like it came
from the North Pole.
One leaf carried by the
wind lands in the puddle
and floats. A crazy
boat on a calm sea, it
bumps the icy edges
and fine shavings of
ice fall to the water
where they melt
and become the puddle.
And the water reflects
the clear blue sky
where yesterday dark
clouds rolled and heaved
rain and snow showers
down on us as we ran
for the door and safety
and warmth. And grabbed
by the wind the door
banged against the house
before I could pull
it closed.
An edge of the leaf
dips below the water’s
surface and the leaf
fills and like a boat
with a hole it sinks
as the air warms and melts
the ring of ice and the
surface of the water
ripples with the wind.

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