The Temple Broom
Morning light slips across the wall of a temple building in Korea. The colors give it away immediately—the deep red pillar, the warm yellow panels, and the turquoise lattice door, all part of the traditional palette you often see in Korean temples. And hanging from the pillar is a broom. Not tossed aside. Not leaning. Hanging carefully so the bristles stay clean. Someone finished sweeping the courtyard and returned it to its place, the way things are done in temples—orderly, without fuss. It was probably early when this was taken. The shadows of bare branches fall across the wall like ink strokes. The air still cool, the grounds not yet filled with visitors. Someone has already moved quietly through the temple grounds this morning, tending to the small, ordinary work that keeps a place like this peaceful. Now the broom waits. In a temple, even the smallest things seem to understand patience.
