Bridge

As he spoke in summerwarm quiet of Lexington Avenue brownstone I thought of cold snow mountain, I wondered and wondered. Patiently teaching city people lessons won through millenia wandering vast timespace distances, I felt cold wind on mountain, heard sonorous voices rhythmically repeating, time to study, lives of study, but still! I washed my hair with French shampoo this morning, I put on citygirl makeup, all the accoutrements of feminine modernity and civilized material but still! What difference snow or heat, amount of possessions, feeling rushed or feeling still? He taught us and in one word the bridge was formed, and from small mad gesture of his moving hand, I was here and there, on second floor Lexington Avenue brownstone, beholding rich treasures of Tibet.