for Jeremiah
by Ande Finley
Buddha speaks freedom, he says as we bear him from his nest of spangles, batik, dark Indonesian wood watch the clerk wrap him carefully cradle him days and miles away now he rests by the crooked cedar courted by rocks, salal, stray salamanders we watch him cupping warm rain his small secret smile invites surprise in summer the meadow robes him in pigweed, nootka, thistle fluff we leave him drowning in green a billion pieces of the moon hang, swaying, in the unsleeping firs glittering in his downcast eyes fog, a bit of snow endless wet his heart picks out the gloom his back settles deeper we speak to him of fear his palm opens to the melting sky and waves us through
©Ande Finley