A
flock of white cranes,
pink
afternoon sky,
drenched
in paddy green below,
thatched
little hut,
shelters
my soul,
from
blessed rain.
Ducks
paddle freely,
in
muddy waters,
separating
food,
waiting
for their shepherd,
whose
tattered feet
climb
a coconut tree,
up,
slash, down
offers
me
the
sacred milk.
Time
passes,
like
riverbed sand,
slow,
easy, pure.
rice
water passes,
through
my toes,
sound
of flowing peace,
constant,
timeless, clean.
No
one hears my heels,
on
this serene footpath,
guarded
by hanging date palms,
one
more swoon of the cranes,
above
my head,
they
cry,
Salamat
Sore
No hay comentarios:
Publicar un comentario