Thirteen,
supposedly a magic number,
unlucky for Christians,
foundation of empire
for Gengis Khan.
Today it was cold.
I shall have to start wearing socks.
The cat and I both ran outside in glee
to enjoy the fifteen minutes of sunshine
allowed by the gods,
or was it thirteen?
More than thirteen clouds
gathered
to occlude the holy disc,
but actual rain
was kindly less today.
I gathered in thirteen logs
for each of the heating stoves…
what a wonderful sound it is…
the fluttering
of burning wood.
There’s easily
thirteen jobs to do
to keep body and soul together
in the course of a winter’s day
alone.
And thirteen hundred
praises of the Buddhas
are not enough
but then…
who’s counting?
I’ve thirteen blessings
in my pocket
like the thirteen holes
in my work trousers
gradually expanding.
Yes, I’ll have to get
new togs for working in,
or retire some other garb
that’s already done
its thirteen years of smarter duty.
Three fours and one
can make a mandala,
or a leaf of clover;
three squares quite neat...
then I’m the odd one over.
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