What the Breeze Brings

This is the perfect spot
for daydreaming—
just the proper combination
of light and breeze
and easy chair.
I often take refuge here—
with a book for a prop,
wistful and open.

Once, in Kyoto
along the philosopher’s
walk, I imagined myself
a 15th century monk—
wandering here and there among
ancient trees and temples—
mossy breeze humming gently
of the past—
of the greening of a first spring—
when dreaming
and waking
were one.

What small misstep
of evolution
has made us a race
of make-believers?
“What’s the good of daydreams?”
I ask myself.

Something for the monk
in me to ponder
as I settle in
by the half-open window
on the easy chair
in dusk’s half light.