Buddha’s Breath

The monk closes his eyes

in lotus position at the hilltop in Bundanoon

as drapes billow in the silence.

Breaths in and out.

Breaths—in and out—

settles the dust of murmur.

Outside, an orchestra of frogs

shapes the mountain into valley.

I trace her contours with my closed eyes

—third breath in…third breath out—

through its deep gorges

up the Kangaroo Valley wall.

Fourth breath —in and out.

Weaving between mountain folds

past Nowra and across to Jervis Bay

where waves collide with changing shores.

Fifth breath in—and out

hoarse croaks vibrate under eucalypt skirts

as though the mountains themselves

chorused in urgency.

Which breath in and which breath out?

A shy breeze cools my skin;

silent as her shadow,

tender as a whispered kiss.

A soft breath in…a lost breath out

Darkness falls on awakened souls,

and brightening up the night

is the moon’s arc of light

Breathe in again and remember to breathe out.

Red Bellies and Eastern Browns lie still as stones

coiled in the night’s stealth,

and here I am, everywhere but in Buddha’s breath.