A young monk is in a rush.
A flash of saffron robes,
a burst of pumping legs,
the percussive slap
of sandals on concrete.
A splash of consciousness
in a tight squeeze.
Where are you going, little one?
The temple is behind you.
Bodhi nature is inside you.
The laughing trees
are all around you.
So what is it
you need to run toward?
