A Poem \u2013 a- Day<\/strong><\/em><\/span><\/h2>\na GIFT from<\/strong><\/span><\/h3>\nPennsylvania Author<\/strong><\/em><\/span><\/h2>\nLynda McKinney Lambert<\/strong><\/em><\/span><\/h2>\n <\/p>\n
<\/h3>\nT<\/strong><\/em><\/span>he Dry Landscape Garden<\/span> <\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n(karesansui)<\/strong><\/em><\/span><\/h3>\nby Lynda McKinney Lambert, April 2002<\/span><\/h4>\n <\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Tranquility.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Silent morning darkness<\/p>\n
full pink moon lingers<\/p>\n
behind night-time trees in silhouette.<\/p>\n
sound of current flowing downstream<\/p>\n
beyond the ridge.<\/p>\n
sunrise filters through slowly<\/p>\n
Red-tailed hawk perches on invisible<\/p>\n
branch of towering sapphire pine<\/p>\n
chants an even rhythm<\/p>\n
a high-pitched piccolo<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Rising sun warms Japanese rock garden<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The morning ritual<\/p>\n
My outstretched hand passes over<\/p>\n
pale worn stones. I sift and shift<\/p>\n
pebbles tumbled through ages.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I clasp stones in my hand<\/p>\n
consider the life-force inside each one.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
A carefully compressed, arranged peaceful garden<\/p>\n
mossy patches, blue Japanese grass<\/p>\n
tiny pink pearl buds on slender branches<\/p>\n
weeping Tamukeyama tree<\/p>\n
yellow grass sprouts through stony floor<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
My husband is an aged monk as<\/p>\n
he bends over \u2013 raking.<\/p>\n
raking.<\/p>\n
scraping the waves with his bamboo rake<\/p>\n
he gathers twigs in the afternoon sunshine.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Zen meditation garden, his deep<\/p>\n
blue shadow glides over hand-cut barn-stone wall<\/p>\n
reclines on thick spring grass<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Brightness floods the steps to the porch<\/p>\n
our hojo<\/em>,<\/p>\nresidence of the chief monk<\/p>\n
our private monastery<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Tonight, we speak quietly about<\/p>\n
verdant moss and pruning<\/p>\n
and how the raking of stones resembles waves of<\/p>\n
the Caribbean sea.<\/p>\n
*<\/strong><\/span><\/h2>\n <\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
![\"\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.lyndalambert.com\/wordpress\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/04\/Bob_March2020_Spring-Cleanup-.jpg?resize=300%2C225&ssl=1\")
<\/a><\/p>\nPhotos by Lynda McKinney Lambert.<\/p>\n
April 2020![\"\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.lyndalambert.com\/wordpress\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/04\/Bob_Feb2020_Spring-cleanup3.jpg?resize=300%2C225&ssl=1\")
<\/a><\/p>\n\u00a0*<\/span><\/strong><\/h2>\nCourtesy of Lynda McKinney Lambert, Pennsylvania Author and Visual Artist.<\/p>\n
Poetry and Photography by Lynda McKinney Lambert.<\/p>\n
Copyright, April 7, 2020. All rights reserved.<\/p>\n
Pennsylvania Author<\/strong><\/em><\/span><\/h2>\nLynda McKinney Lambert<\/strong><\/em><\/span><\/h2>\n <\/p>\n
<\/h3>\nT<\/strong><\/em><\/span>he Dry Landscape Garden<\/span> <\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n(karesansui)<\/strong><\/em><\/span><\/h3>\nby Lynda McKinney Lambert, April 2002<\/span><\/h4>\n <\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Tranquility.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Silent morning darkness<\/p>\n
full pink moon lingers<\/p>\n
behind night-time trees in silhouette.<\/p>\n
sound of current flowing downstream<\/p>\n
beyond the ridge.<\/p>\n
sunrise filters through slowly<\/p>\n
Red-tailed hawk perches on invisible<\/p>\n
branch of towering sapphire pine<\/p>\n
chants an even rhythm<\/p>\n
a high-pitched piccolo<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Rising sun warms Japanese rock garden<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The morning ritual<\/p>\n
My outstretched hand passes over<\/p>\n
pale worn stones. I sift and shift<\/p>\n
pebbles tumbled through ages.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I clasp stones in my hand<\/p>\n
consider the life-force inside each one.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
A carefully compressed, arranged peaceful garden<\/p>\n
mossy patches, blue Japanese grass<\/p>\n
tiny pink pearl buds on slender branches<\/p>\n
weeping Tamukeyama tree<\/p>\n
yellow grass sprouts through stony floor<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
My husband is an aged monk as<\/p>\n
he bends over \u2013 raking.<\/p>\n
raking.<\/p>\n
scraping the waves with his bamboo rake<\/p>\n
he gathers twigs in the afternoon sunshine.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Zen meditation garden, his deep<\/p>\n
blue shadow glides over hand-cut barn-stone wall<\/p>\n
reclines on thick spring grass<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Brightness floods the steps to the porch<\/p>\n
our hojo<\/em>,<\/p>\nresidence of the chief monk<\/p>\n
our private monastery<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Tonight, we speak quietly about<\/p>\n
verdant moss and pruning<\/p>\n
and how the raking of stones resembles waves of<\/p>\n
the Caribbean sea.<\/p>\n
*<\/strong><\/span><\/h2>\n <\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/a><\/p>\nPhotos by Lynda McKinney Lambert.<\/p>\n
April 2020<\/a><\/p>\n\u00a0*<\/span><\/strong><\/h2>\nCourtesy of Lynda McKinney Lambert, Pennsylvania Author and Visual Artist.<\/p>\n
Poetry and Photography by Lynda McKinney Lambert.<\/p>\n
Copyright, April 7, 2020. All rights reserved.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/h3>\nT<\/strong><\/em><\/span>he Dry Landscape Garden<\/span> <\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n(karesansui)<\/strong><\/em><\/span><\/h3>\nby Lynda McKinney Lambert, April 2002<\/span><\/h4>\n <\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Tranquility.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Silent morning darkness<\/p>\n
full pink moon lingers<\/p>\n
behind night-time trees in silhouette.<\/p>\n
sound of current flowing downstream<\/p>\n
beyond the ridge.<\/p>\n
sunrise filters through slowly<\/p>\n
Red-tailed hawk perches on invisible<\/p>\n
branch of towering sapphire pine<\/p>\n
chants an even rhythm<\/p>\n
a high-pitched piccolo<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Rising sun warms Japanese rock garden<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The morning ritual<\/p>\n
My outstretched hand passes over<\/p>\n
pale worn stones. I sift and shift<\/p>\n
pebbles tumbled through ages.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I clasp stones in my hand<\/p>\n
consider the life-force inside each one.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
A carefully compressed, arranged peaceful garden<\/p>\n
mossy patches, blue Japanese grass<\/p>\n
tiny pink pearl buds on slender branches<\/p>\n
weeping Tamukeyama tree<\/p>\n
yellow grass sprouts through stony floor<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
My husband is an aged monk as<\/p>\n
he bends over \u2013 raking.<\/p>\n
raking.<\/p>\n
scraping the waves with his bamboo rake<\/p>\n
he gathers twigs in the afternoon sunshine.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Zen meditation garden, his deep<\/p>\n
blue shadow glides over hand-cut barn-stone wall<\/p>\n
reclines on thick spring grass<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Brightness floods the steps to the porch<\/p>\n
our hojo<\/em>,<\/p>\nresidence of the chief monk<\/p>\n
our private monastery<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Tonight, we speak quietly about<\/p>\n
verdant moss and pruning<\/p>\n
and how the raking of stones resembles waves of<\/p>\n
the Caribbean sea.<\/p>\n
*<\/strong><\/span><\/h2>\n <\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/a><\/p>\nPhotos by Lynda McKinney Lambert.<\/p>\n
April 2020<\/a><\/p>\n\u00a0*<\/span><\/strong><\/h2>\nCourtesy of Lynda McKinney Lambert, Pennsylvania Author and Visual Artist.<\/p>\n
Poetry and Photography by Lynda McKinney Lambert.<\/p>\n
Copyright, April 7, 2020. All rights reserved.<\/p>\n
(karesansui)<\/strong><\/em><\/span><\/h3>\nby Lynda McKinney Lambert, April 2002<\/span><\/h4>\n <\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Tranquility.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Silent morning darkness<\/p>\n
full pink moon lingers<\/p>\n
behind night-time trees in silhouette.<\/p>\n
sound of current flowing downstream<\/p>\n
beyond the ridge.<\/p>\n
sunrise filters through slowly<\/p>\n
Red-tailed hawk perches on invisible<\/p>\n
branch of towering sapphire pine<\/p>\n
chants an even rhythm<\/p>\n
a high-pitched piccolo<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Rising sun warms Japanese rock garden<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The morning ritual<\/p>\n
My outstretched hand passes over<\/p>\n
pale worn stones. I sift and shift<\/p>\n
pebbles tumbled through ages.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I clasp stones in my hand<\/p>\n
consider the life-force inside each one.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
A carefully compressed, arranged peaceful garden<\/p>\n
mossy patches, blue Japanese grass<\/p>\n
tiny pink pearl buds on slender branches<\/p>\n
weeping Tamukeyama tree<\/p>\n
yellow grass sprouts through stony floor<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
My husband is an aged monk as<\/p>\n
he bends over \u2013 raking.<\/p>\n
raking.<\/p>\n
scraping the waves with his bamboo rake<\/p>\n
he gathers twigs in the afternoon sunshine.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Zen meditation garden, his deep<\/p>\n
blue shadow glides over hand-cut barn-stone wall<\/p>\n
reclines on thick spring grass<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Brightness floods the steps to the porch<\/p>\n
our hojo<\/em>,<\/p>\nresidence of the chief monk<\/p>\n
our private monastery<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Tonight, we speak quietly about<\/p>\n
verdant moss and pruning<\/p>\n
and how the raking of stones resembles waves of<\/p>\n
the Caribbean sea.<\/p>\n
*<\/strong><\/span><\/h2>\n <\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/a><\/p>\nPhotos by Lynda McKinney Lambert.<\/p>\n
April 2020<\/a><\/p>\n\u00a0*<\/span><\/strong><\/h2>\nCourtesy of Lynda McKinney Lambert, Pennsylvania Author and Visual Artist.<\/p>\n
Poetry and Photography by Lynda McKinney Lambert.<\/p>\n
Copyright, April 7, 2020. All rights reserved.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Tranquility.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Silent morning darkness<\/p>\n
full pink moon lingers<\/p>\n
behind night-time trees in silhouette.<\/p>\n
sound of current flowing downstream<\/p>\n
beyond the ridge.<\/p>\n
sunrise filters through slowly<\/p>\n
Red-tailed hawk perches on invisible<\/p>\n
branch of towering sapphire pine<\/p>\n
chants an even rhythm<\/p>\n
a high-pitched piccolo<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Rising sun warms Japanese rock garden<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The morning ritual<\/p>\n
My outstretched hand passes over<\/p>\n
pale worn stones. I sift and shift<\/p>\n
pebbles tumbled through ages.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I clasp stones in my hand<\/p>\n
consider the life-force inside each one.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
A carefully compressed, arranged peaceful garden<\/p>\n
mossy patches, blue Japanese grass<\/p>\n
tiny pink pearl buds on slender branches<\/p>\n
weeping Tamukeyama tree<\/p>\n
yellow grass sprouts through stony floor<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
My husband is an aged monk as<\/p>\n
he bends over \u2013 raking.<\/p>\n
raking.<\/p>\n
scraping the waves with his bamboo rake<\/p>\n
he gathers twigs in the afternoon sunshine.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Zen meditation garden, his deep<\/p>\n
blue shadow glides over hand-cut barn-stone wall<\/p>\n
reclines on thick spring grass<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Brightness floods the steps to the porch<\/p>\n
our hojo<\/em>,<\/p>\n residence of the chief monk<\/p>\n our private monastery<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Tonight, we speak quietly about<\/p>\n verdant moss and pruning<\/p>\n and how the raking of stones resembles waves of<\/p>\n the Caribbean sea.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Photos by Lynda McKinney Lambert.<\/p>\n April 2020 Courtesy of Lynda McKinney Lambert, Pennsylvania Author and Visual Artist.<\/p>\n Poetry and Photography by Lynda McKinney Lambert.<\/p>\n Copyright, April 7, 2020. All rights reserved.<\/p>\n*<\/strong><\/span><\/h2>\n
![\"\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.lyndalambert.com\/wordpress\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/04\/Bob_March2020_Spring-Cleanup--scaled.jpg?ssl=1\")
<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n\u00a0*<\/span><\/strong><\/h2>\n