Crows, doves, dragonflies—

on summer days these pilgrims

sanctify our yard.

Shoes

First days of autumn—

pilgrims leave their worn-out shoes

at the wayside shrine.

Birdsong

in the temple courts

pilgrims hush their morning chants—

birdsong stuns the air

walking together

three Canterbury pilgrims

swapping bawdy tales

footsore and weary

a dozen tattered pilgrims

third year on the road

On an empty road

the prayers of pilgrims past

linger forever.

Morning offerings—

pilgrims dance to chiming bells

in the temple courts.

In the temple courts

startled pilgrims halt their chants—

birdsong stuns the air.

field mice at midnight—

three pilgrims in the pantry

nibbling apple pie

three weary pilgrims

losing heart along the way—

a whiff of lotus