May We Listen Deeply

For Thich Nhat Hanh

Photo by Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash

He let me speak until my words ran out —
Leaves scattered into piles, falling from their winter tree,
Colors faint but warm — the oranges, reds and browns —
Lying beneath us at our feet.

And then he did one thing so precious and so rare.
Instead of looking away from the now barren tree,
He…