}} Winter Moon |

Poetry at Sangam

SangamHouse

 










Winter Moon

Deep in the northern woods

I light the evening fire.

A bamboo of local brew beside me

and a book of verse open on my chest.

 
A friend from far across these mountains

exhorts me to write a poem on “formlessness”.

In the house of “non-duality” what is the

difference between a poet and his poetry.
 

A cold winter moon swims past

the Milky Way and dips headlong

into the branches of tall pine trees,

pouring its silver onto tiny dewdrops.
 
 
 
← Guru T. Ladakhi