Marc's Haiku Page (5)

Into the sunlight. Leaving ashes on the hearth; His home behind him.

The sage walks alone. Far from man's habitations Pause and hear crickets.

Under singing stars; Time to ease the easy load; Embers rose and gold.

Caffeine buzz beckons. Water boiling over sticks; Morning coffee smell.

A fork in the trail. Choosing a future by chance He cuts through the woods.

Rushing water cuts Under his chosen track; now Air! A leap of faith.

Witness to the Earth; Lessons of trail and leaf-light; Teacher will be taught.

Clearing in the trees. With strength of stone he slumbers; Head on sleeping stone.

Waking, still he dreams; His shadows chasing shadows; Dreaming self awake.

Storm clouds gathering; Finding shelter in a cave, He finds peace within.

Birdsong and sunlight; Cold stone yields to warming moss. Morning yields breakfast.

Feet protest his boots; A scholar's life has left him Nature's poor cousin.

Turning towards home, His steps linger on the trail, His heart divided.

Following the Way, Returning to his routine, An old path seems new.

Crossing the threshold Laying his pack on his bed His mind reaches back.

Darkness falls once more. Movement becomes Stillness, but The journey goes on.

Marc's Haiku Page #5

(The Sage Goes Camping)

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Into the sunlight. Leaving ashes on the hearth; His home behind him.	The sage walks alone. Far from man's habitations Pause and hear crickets.
Under singing stars; Time to ease the easy load; Embers rose and gold.	Caffeine buzz beckons. Water boiling over sticks; Morning coffee smell.
A fork in the trail. Choosing a future by chance He cuts through the woods.	Rushing water cuts Under his chosen track; now Air! A leap of faith.
Witness to the Earth; Lessons of trail and leaf-light; Teacher will be taught.	Clearing in the trees. With strength of stone he slumbers; Head on sleeping stone.
Waking, still he dreams; His shadows chasing shadows; Dreaming self awake.	Storm clouds gathering; Finding shelter in a cave, He finds peace within.
Birdsong and sunlight; Cold stone yields to warming moss. Morning yields breakfast.	Feet protest his boots; A scholar's life has left him Nature's poor cousin.
Turning towards home, His steps linger on the trail, His heart divided.	Following the Way, Returning to his routine, An old path seems new.
Crossing the threshold Laying his pack on his bed His mind reaches back.	Darkness falls once more. Movement becomes Stillness, but The journey goes on.