as a fish out of water seeks the watery--

            
what barn cries for spring to come
unbeknownst to fire and rain--the wind
which sweeps pine dust easily out
the sliding thick pine doors

only to encircle those
who know the nectar
of patience- painting
orange paint over raw pine

seasons as the summer deepens
as we need caps to deflect ear wigs,
spiders, flying salamanders--so close
to the coast-- the scent of salt spray
entwining with wild rosa ragosa
sending us to sweep sand
witnessing the weather moving
from west to east--on this glorious
island- as a striped bass..

sending its fins beyond montauk..
its mouth speaking the queens english-
third eye somewhere north of williamsburgh,
belly flopping between whitman's birthplace,
and points further west- willing dreams--
as a fish out of water seeks watery
environs-- laying down tracks, as roots,
revived- old books brushed off- dust again-

and the clear treble sound of wood blocks
in the dharma hall, followed by the ringing
of the bells, palms pressed together in gassho
so early at dawn- brown robes still cool
deep in the catskills-- each member
of the sangha walking solo
open with all the radiance of fine cut crystal
we sit on brushed satin black cushions

watching how the clouds drift through
the northern and eastern windows
those window panes, representing
more vertical thought-than the heifer
horizontal--drumming up the "i am that i am"
so early in the morning, we do not
feel yet the pain of the wet summer heat
numbing the discomfort of all day session'-

we sit on the banks of the osopus,
underneath poplar pine
mid-afternoon- sparkling spots of sunshine
bubbling up from within--tire tubing
with a current persistence courting
pretend sails- sojourns we ultimately
take by our own vessels- re-aligning
in between the two coasts---
crazy winds continuing

~words/photo ~kate lamberg (c) '15