Fingers brush my left hand—
a question I lightly
answer. We forage a silent path
within deep woods,
curl around each other,
nurture ourselves
with minute movements.
Forever.

When we must rise
I kiss her ear, Thanks—
and let go.

(A response to Zen Master Ikkyu’s 15th century Poem Presented to My Friend Ako at the Hot Spring)

It was the penultimate day of 2007–no better time to unlimber Gabrielle Roth’s “5 Rhythms” to dance out the old year and welcome the new one. On that dance floor dojo and in the delicacy of that hand I experienced a reawakening.

Here’s that old rascal, Ikkyu:

Poem Presented to My Friend Ako at the Hot Spring

It is nice to get a glimpse of a lady bathing–
you scrubbed your flower face and cleansed your lovely body
while this old monk sat in the hot water,
feeling more blessed than even the emperor of China!

(trans. John Stevens)