Monday Morning Haiku

Hill trail's green grass
Mountain sides snow white
We wait for rain



Life seems to be full of reincarnations.  Every morning is a reincarnation of the past morning, when I wake up to my cell alarm or a brightening sky, and the feeling I entered the sleep-bardo with last night as often as not has reincarnated in the morning with my mind. I pad downstairs to grind and brew new coffee, whose smell and taste are a reminder of yesterday's first cup too. And everytime I feel like my life, my relationships, my love has reached a new high it is reincarnated into a crisis, a loss, a mistake that echos the past.