Akshobya
Dark light before dawn
no wind and in the silence
a fox barking on the hill;
suddenly in the candle lit room
the cold landscape unfurls
invisible rocks, burrows of badgers
trolling the turf for bulbs and insects
the starlit dome, dusk before dawn
Blue immensity.
Ratnasambhava
Sunrise, far to the SSE
almost at the point of turning
a midwinter sky lined by the tracery of trees,
northern thrushes search the drab field
four, five steps in a run, stop,
look-about and on again
occasionally the unwary worm
sun blinking sky bell chanting
in the cold season.
Old lady in the village shop
hairstyle not seen in a hundred years
dropping in for her 'weekly'
emerges from the hills, her man
the shepherd, dour, grey as the rocks,
immovable, sunray hidden in his heart
drove the landrover, mud covered,
sheep shit and collie in the back.
"G'morning" I say
"G'morning to you"- they turn smiling
extraordinary innocence
in their eyes.
Amitabha
Cars, lorries, sheep liners moving up and down the road
stopping at pubs for a cheery one
where the coals glow, damp logs fizz
mid-daying the sun laced light
on the grey-grass hills
dark firs sentinel beside the farms
cheerful sheep eyeing the black foraging birds
red god firing a thousand hearths.
Today, Mrs Sims, the Post Office lady
bustles around in the rain to open the door.
"Horrible weather!" she says,
"Starting a cold too -"
Two letters for Poland - I tell her
"Poland is it then?" she eyes them doubtfully
"Where's that then? Europe is it?"
"Not quite - a bit beyond - but will be someday!"
"Ah - yes!" she finds it in the book,
triumphantly "43 pee then it is
twice over."
Amoghasiddhi
Already in the early afternoon
light fades grizzling the land no shadows now,
A giant owl perches on a fencepost - no
just a fencepost really,
presences swarm in the groves
the crannies of the hills,
the old Welsh spooks, the powers
reaching the not-quite fearful heart
greening in the dark light
fading, yellow flames
in the village houses far below.
JHC December 1998
