Sunday 3:58 AM

One last shot at Rohatsu
Everyone’s still asleep
Savoring the still still of sesshin seventh
A journal and warm tea ablution
by the back French doors

I realize what I’d hoped was moonlight
Bathing the kitchen all this time
Nothing but an overdone silver screen
The last ditch katz
of a lone security light in the back yard
Longing for release
So she can rest in the light of day

Beyond the garage
the black sky goes on forever
Stepping out into the crisp night of ice
It has always been like this
Glasses forgotten
Not a sound

Debra Seido Martin, December 2016