on the fact
that the only certain fact
is death
and I did, sitting up straighter
on my fuchsia cushion
in the middle of my living room,
closing my eyes
on the sight of the daffodils
so newly released
from eight inches of snow,
focusing
on death’s certain fact. A thought
rose up
out of the great, central black:
Yes, but not yet!
and it was yellow, and sprang back.
"Meditate: said the monk in the book" is published here with the kind permission of the author.