Tending my neglected Buddha, by degrees

Tending Buddha

I begin by pulling wild weeds and raking fallen leaves. I whisk a winter’s-full of caked loam from stone steps. The dirt provides my manicure and the sun warms and massages my stiff back.  A deep breath, the first in many months, hands me softly-scented sweet air.  My mind shifts. I step back from task complete, into stillness and contentment.