Know first the dimensions:


60 inches in length, 48 inches high

divided by mullions into 12 panes


Locked, the window does not allow

for sound;


Open, for bird calls, breezes, distant sirens


Below the window sits a white squat

porcelain Buddha

roughly nine inches in height,

though in viewing

its height seems indeterminate


Expression: bemused


The Buddha resides on a mirror,

the shining surface of a white wooden chest

with two doors, each ornamented by four circles


The mirror reflects everything around

and everything beyond the Buddha


Not ten feet from the chest on a white square ottoman

sits a fantasy of myself


What attracts me is not the Buddha or the image

of myself but the garden outside the window


Every shade of green is there, every shape of leaf,

every color of vine, trunk, fruit and blossom,

every mystery inside each pod, stamen, bean and bud,

every mix of light and pale


The window as a whole, each individual pane,

makes for an image of Everything

Today, at least for this instant, Everything is there


The puzzle for the Buddha and myself is what to call

the Everything, the inevitable question of “What is it?”

beyond the Nowhere


And so I and the Buddha sit, as does squirrel, owl, doe,

stag, perplexed child, in uncounted seconds of silence,

frozen, stymied, forlorn, behind immutable barriers

of the invisible, waiting, for a word, a name, an inkling,

a signal, a sign, anything of the supernatural from beyond

this window, this sheet of glass