By Hokuto Osho

When I was a kid, it was the beginning of the Space Age. Each rocket launch was televised live on all the TV networks, and the countdown would fill our hearts with an intoxicating mixture of joy and excitement.  Read More at Lion’s Roar

By Hokuto Osho

entering the storm
            snow piled on snow: so long a
                          way to cold mountain

                                              no more walking: sit
                           not looking for cold mountain
             I find myself here
 
cold mountain again:
            it is closer than myself
                     this clear moonlit night

By Hokuto Osho

wicked autumn wind
suddenly naked, the shy
eastern larch shivers

By Hokuto Osho

in deepest shadow
sleep takes me ever deeper
dreaming of fireflies

evening dragonflies
skimming the pond—advance scouts
in firefly country

fireflies know no fences
free to create their own light
they share it with all

By Hokuto Osho

tulips singing praise
petals fall to wind and rain
only praise remains