Early Morning Dharma
First hike into the hills since eye surgery.
Only a part of my usual route, today
to the tiny farm stand where I select
summer squash and green beans.
I restrain myself from picking up trash,
as is my habit, another three days’
restriction of no bending over.
Thursday, garbage bins will be out,
lids open, where I can deposit
the litter defacing this place I love.
My daughter wants me to wear gloves,
but I never do. Now I can spot objects
from a distance even better, like the shells
I detect at tideline from far down the beach.
Sometimes I wonder about the people
who throw trash out their windows—
beer cans, plastic water bottles, fast food
containers, Cliff bar wrappers, empty tins
of Skoal. If my picking up these things,
touching them where their fingers touched
in some way connects me to them.
Walking back down, I see a dusty sign
abandoned in the dry grass.
Proceed with Kindness, it urges, and I try to.
