sounds of tenzo’s teacups
and pots for oatmeal
filter through the zendo’s morning incense,
through my regret
for the unfolding of
the evening before.
a patch of emerging sunlight
slanted on the old oak floor
receives my prostration.
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bussokuseki 
This is lovely. Thank you for sharing this poem.
This is lovely. Thank you for sharing this poem.
Thank you Clare, I am so happy you found something meaningful in it. Be well~