Complex: From Temple Pillock to Fenceposts

Sometimes practice begins with
Sitting meditation,
And at other times with
Picking oneself up off the floor!

Or, at least,
So it is for me
On days like this,
When rain pounds and wind pummels.

What happens
Between one day
And the other?
Who can say?

Bad news
I suppose:
I never could
Hold my bad news;

Possibly I’d prefer Scotch neat,
But that would only
Dull the senses
And mend no fences.

My rails have come down probably,
Or I’ve fallen off them maybe;
Either way,
I’ve been hanging wire mesh all day.

There’s no way to avoid it:
I have to weld the staple gun;
It’s no fun,
And I’ve only just begun.

The sun is setting though,
Putting on a free show
For all who care to see;
And so, I temporarily set aside my tools
To take in this heartening spectacle.