The Hermit at Table Three
The silence of porcelain,
clink! like a prayer bell;
a cluttered space is cleared—
for silent prayer and mindful
noticing—of nothing.
The monk today
is metropolitan,
an overseer of cafe tables,
ensconced in blackboard caverns,
afloat in a holy see;
who moves with and against
the baggage, some that floats,
to dissolve in the air and light,
and some, sinking and unfathomable
mystery in the coffee-black
and deathly-silent deeps.