Dawn

At dawn, I hear the owls call,
to wish their own good night,
but with the rising sun
for me, the call to wake.

From a dream within a dream,
from a sleep I hadn’t known I’d slept.

And now, with child’s eyes,
I look upon the Bodhi tree,
and it dawns on me:
my life is like the river—
no moment ever twice the same.

And under sun or moon,
one day,
will make its way
down to the sea.

But until that day,
as if at dawn,
I see the world—with a child’s eyes,

joy-filled, in wonder,
and with grateful reverie.