Feeding Warmed Over Death

Greetings,

Around 9:11 a.m. on a fine soft morning promising to be tropically hot by high noon after washing three long sleeve lime green cotton teaching uniform shirts and hanging them out to dry, stabbing a tall beautifully formed naked bamboo pole into the back garden brown soil next to a strong climbing pink flowering plant needing support under dancing green, blue, yellow, white, and orange Lung-Ta prayer flags, watering ten orchids on the front porch gathering early sun and visiting with sparrows I watched a middle-aged Javanese woman working for a family across the street feed soft rice to an old woman sitting in her wheelchair, feeling the sun on her wrinkled face.

We are all death deferred.

So it goes. Finished with the feeding program the Javanese woman gently wiped the old woman's mouth, placed the spoon in the bowl and wheeled the woman back into the room out of the sun. Then she closed the brown door.

The old woman said, "Thanks for the food, the warm sun and your love."

Then she closed her eyes and dreamed.

Metta.