a sort of contentment

Vincent Van Gogh, in the Bois de Boulogne, 1886.

Winter has ended, we endured. 

Time is a blanket, and that can be nice, 

but a blanket isn't always wanted. 

Early spring can feel like waking up 

after a long and restful sleep. 

The morning light has a sort of contentment, 

and the coffee seems wonderful. 

James Lee Jobe  

"I'd like to point out to people the divine in a musical language that transcends words. I want to speak to their souls."

-John Coltrane-

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Daily rising well before dawn

to light the candles

and sit in meditation;

life might race past,

but for myself,

I far prefer to walk.

James Lee Jobe

"Imagination, the traitor of the mind, has taken my solitude and slain it."

--Robinson Jeffers

Moonrise again.

Only humans need a word

For sorrow, a wolf just howls.

The howls just fade away

And a man might fade away as well.

The silence that follows is empty.

Now it is late. The moon rises

Over the Sacramento Valley.

Walking alone, the sound of feet

Moving through the tall grass.

James Lee Jobe

A student, filled with emotion and crying, implored, "Why is there so much suffering?" Suzuki Roshi replied, "No reason.”

"Hope and fear cannot alter the seasons." — Chögyam Trungpa

Putah Creek. Summer. Daybreak.
The creek, always moving,
slides by at the very place
where night and morning cross paths,
and then goes on past
on its way to heaven.

James Lee Jobe

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