Rust

Can moss oxidate is our question hanging
In the cliff, as a hanger is mid-air and against
Streaks of water, dropping from higher rocks
And a shirt color or two emerges at bottom
Among rising food carts for colored sweaters.

Seems we have lichen in oxide color of rock
Or moss that gathers no green but brown.
Imagine rocks rusting like our good old iron.
Their ancient sun does not make chlorophyll
But brown tiny leaves, in pearl-drops of rain
The sun may be rusting of old age in the hills.

It is not the sun alone who is rusting , in case.
The monks are doing the same thing in ocher.
Their child presences are smoking in laughter.
As white curls emerge from their rust brown
Clothes with Buddha peace prevailing in folds.
As they run peace prevails in higher echelons.

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