Near the Path
Zen Buddhists say that to lose yourself
Perhaps they walked dogs.
To stroll along a trail with a beagle
You are there in softly unfurling ferns
You are there in clumps of furry moss growing on wrinkled bark
You are there in a rotting stump nurturing a huckleberry bush
You are there in a mound of fir needles covering an ant colony
You are not in yourself.
You are lost.
Until you see your car again.
© 2009 Michael Yanega