My math-loving daughter, seeing a page scrawled in my handwriting, asked me what this 10,000 things is all about. I could say infinite multiplicity; I could say maya or phenomena. Or how about something that make might more sense, like September 5th in all its richly earthly Vermont splendor, the seed buds of jewelweed popping between your fingers and the little black crickets singing you to sleep. Watermelon juice on your chin and your sister’s long fingers brushing your hair. Today. Us.

The banana tree
blown by winds pours raindrops
into the bucket

–– Basho