With memories of
Basho’s journeys,
an old poet writes
useless poems
like this one
not knowing
how it will end
until the final lines
toll through
the silence
like a monastery bell
during a spring snow
upon red tulips.
Wizened poets
are most wise
when living
their poems
before ever
writing them,
and hearing
in the cry
of the loon
overhead
a calling
to sacred
love as old
as memory.
An old poet
patiently waits
for the golden sun
to rise one more time
upon the calm face
of death dancing
with divine life
as the melting snow
reveals the
fresh flowers’
ancient beauty.
Alan Altany, Ph.D., is a septuagenarian college professor of religious studies. He’s been a factory worker, swineherd on a farm, hotel clerk, lawn maintenance worker, small magazine of poetry editor, truck driver, novelist, etc. He published a book of Christian poetry entitled A Beautiful Absurdity: Christian Poetry of the Sacred. His website: https://www.alanaltany.com/.