Cloak of Holy

While gathering sticks

felled by the storm

you come across

a large patch of plush moss

carpeting the base

of a blossoming silver maple

and for a reason

that can not be named

you kneel down

and rest your hand upon it

feeling the life

spring up beneath your fingers

with such vitality

that it vibrates

through your whole being

until the green of it

reaches your heart

filling it with the verdant

love of creation

and now you know why

Buddhist monks in Japan

would clothe themselves

with pelts of moss

when they traveled

between their sacred sites

a cloak of Holy

for the journey