after bowing to two Bald Eagles
holding firm on the naked ancient cottonwood branches
over the whirling Mother River Animas
and after
having a Swainson’s Hawk drilled his beauty into me
after i chanted him the Sacred Mantra
as he sat royally high overhead
atop a playing field light at the fairgrounds,
an Osprey circled with dazzling spirals
seemingly unmoved by the moss-covered old rocks
and new snowmelt adding
veracity day by day
to
Mother River…
ilg watched himself ride along the Bike Path
smiling
pedaling through Nirvana…
looking up
looking in
head bowed and Dharma Blessings upon thy Practice and May you realize your Practice everywhere,
coach ilg