Friends gather at dark
Sutras, candles, silence, tea
Daphne blossom drops.
Gray hair, or dyed, worn eyes close
He strikes the bell, "Shall we start?"
And here's a resonant poem by Chinese poet, Wang Wei (701-761)
A Meal for Monks
I came late to the dharma,
but each day, deepen my retreat.
Waiting for mountain monks,
I sweep my simple hut.
Then down from cloudy peaks
you come through knee-deep weeds.
We kneel on tatami, munching pine nuts.
We burn incense and study the Way.
Light the lamp at twilight:
a single chime begins the night.
In every solitude, deep joy.
This life abides.
How can you think of returning?
A lifetime is empty like the void.