The Buddha & The Blue Horses In The Snow

after a late night lecture at the Buddhist Church
the audience files out some leisurely
some leave in a panic to relieve baby-sitters
'its double pay after midnight
damn Tibetans they have no sense of time
someone else adds a boisterious former New Yorker
others just keep chatting away & giving out hugs
their eyes all aglow just another little satori they whisper
to their pals from LA & San Francisco
some spaced-out chatting away to anyone or no one at all
the woman I came with says she has to leave
all this hugging drives me crazy
what a bunch of back-stabbing phonies she confides to me
as we leave the gold painted shrine-room
& begin searching for our shoes
she disappears in the meandering stream of bodies
someone shouts ' its a fucking blizzard out there'
& the snow is piling up fast '
seeing the snow drifting covering their cars
some sigh & moan some wonder if we'll ever get home
an angry Buddhist shakes his fist at wind-tossed snowflakes
I bundle up in scarf gloves & hood & head up the street
having no car I cannot share their concerns -

so I begin my trek on foot
dragging myself through waist-high snow-drifts
only the odd car passes me
I keep turning away from the wind as I lose my breath
suddenly the air is still & the clouds part as if on cue
revealing such a wondrous boldly glowing moon
& I begin crossing the sparkling fields of snow
in waves of dripping moonlight
at 3am on the Halifax Commons
& for a moment the internal babble
has shut down I climb onto one of the bleachers
along the side of the invisible ball-park
brushing a dusting of snow away I take my seat
reach into the inside pocket
of my brown weather worn
leather jacket take out
a pack of cigarettes fish for matches
light up gently inhaling exhaling
slowly watching the soft small cloud of smoke
swirling around floating away breaking apart
disappearing into the cold night air
discovering the power of silence
hearing the murmuring of the engines
which are at the heart of the universe
in its perpetual slowly turning cogs & springs
turning wheels within wheels perpetually moving
while blue horses prance about barely disturbing the glittering white snow-

by gordon coombes

Comments (4)

I enjoyed this for its originality.
er, that's thanks as in thanks...
Me, I love prose which finds poetry within itself... brilliant, a riveting read. han ks.
You paint an interesting and original picture with this piece, which is more mini-prose than poetry, don't you think?