Garden Buddha Poem by Norman E Dale

He sits out in the garden,
if I may beg your pardon,
and he sits there if it rains, or in the sun.
He does'nt seem to mind,
his expression's always kind,
while he sits there, with his legs crossed,
on his bum.

He meditates all day,
perhaps to pass the time away,
and he never seems to move a hand nor foot.
He just sits with closed eye,
and the world goes gently by,
while he sits there with his legs crossed,
on his butt.

He's been there quite a while,
with the same all knowing smile,
and I wonder what he knows that I do not,
So I'll learn all that I coulda,
in the footsteps of the Buddha,
and I'll join him, with my legs crossed,
on my bott.