Sometimes poetry is better than our usual email comments in
expressing the essence of Zen.
Your poem with its crows reminded me of a stanza of mine with similar
So set stillness with a single sound
Crack human mind with angel wound
Watch Heaven shimmering in a dewdrop
Till gentle wind of mind and time both stop
And flecks of words like ravens fly
Far beyond bright empty sky.
On Sep 23, 2008, at 6:31 PM, Bob wrote:
Autumn jumps the gun
before calendar gives okay.
I walk to busstop to get my Sunday Lunch
with umbrella ready to hand.
Oaks and maples have no need
to study treatises on photosynthesis or
angle of incidence of lightrays
to know when to drop yellow or crimson leaves.
Neither does a squirrel burying a fat acorn.
The cheeky crow dances away in mock annoyance.
Her flockmates glide silently to land so beautifully.
She says they steal.
They say she shares.
(They do too leave traces in the sky!)