All Hallows Eve, All Saints Day. The barren branches of the trees when I step outside in the morning. Leaves strewn across wet pavement. These things have opened up a space inside me. Here’s a poem by Ryokan:
I have returned to my native village after twenty years;
No sign of old friends or relatives–they have all died
or gone away.
My dreams are shattered by the sound of the temple bell
struck at sunrise.
An empty floor, no shadows; the light has long been