Leaf from the Bodhi Tree

The same dear friend who sent me last month a singing bowl from her recent travels to Tibet and India, sent me this afternoon one pressed leaf (in a frame) from Bodhgaya, in the ancient state of Patna; it is from a bodhi tree descended from the very one under which the Buddha sat when he attained enlightenment or Nirvana.

It is a simple and beautiful thing, profoundly moving for all that it represents of what we know--- mostly don't know--- as we walk our paths.

*

And here is a poem I posted yesterday at Dave Bonta's Via Negativa---


LIKE THE WARBLER

"I dare not eat it, though I starve,---
My poignant luxury...."

~ Emily Dickinson


So clear, it almost hurts: so blue, so green---
that line hurtling into the distance and pulling

like a thick brush-stroke everything that lives
at ground-level: that's how you've lifted me,

little chipped stone that's traveled
from some far tributary. And the air

is cold, but the heavy clapper sounds the notes
of the bell like a heart hollowed for just this

purpose. But oh, what the bird sings is sweet-
sweet-sweet. And all these bitter years,

what releases is the same each time: mouth
like the warbler that has learned your name.

~ Luisa A. Igloria