Creative Process

I tag along whenever I can,
like a younger brother
though, in truth, I am the older.

He is brighter and smarter
yet I know more and
am purported to be
the responsible one
though others in the
family do not always
agree on the later point.

Yesterday we made
dandelion soup outside
using only the warm spring
sun, five fresh-picked
dandelion blossoms and
available rainwater. He
did the pouring and
the stirring while I
closely observed the full point
of his easeful attention.
I’m happy to follow
his idiosyncratic process
and I like to think we
have developed quite
a creative partnership,
the two of us. He thought
it needed more spice and I
suggest the tiny tree
blossoms recently fallen.
I pointed to the intricate
structure of their sepals,
stamen and radial pistols,
and was going on to a further
discussion of pollination
and the wonder of so
many small green flowers
showered down from such
large trees, but the tender
things themselves were
plenty enough for him
and right into the soup
they went.

Later, we added potting soil
from the yellow bucket, sang
Old MacDonald many times
through passing melody and
lyrics casually back and forth,
used the watering can
to refill our rainwater sink
and delight over and over
in the pouring wetness of it all.

(Excerpted from forthcoming book Wandering Close to Home: A Year of Zen Reflections, Consolations, and Reveries. September 1, 2024.)