Tornado
Looking, in this moment,
at the summer landscape
in all it's birdy fullness and firm greenery
a moment: I sit in bright hot sodden sun
in the leveled
chopped green landscape
strewn with splinters and plastic, and still
that moment peaceful
This moment peaceful,
And later, after a tame storm
has ripped spent petals
from the early herbs, this moment.
And that; there. No dripping foliage
but the slightest stir
of questioning birdsong in bare air.
A prism in my fist
stretched to the sun,
I cast a single
synthetic
rainbow.
Looking, in this moment,
at the summer landscape
in all it's birdy fullness and firm greenery
a moment: I sit in bright hot sodden sun
in the leveled
chopped green landscape
strewn with splinters and plastic, and still
that moment peaceful
This moment peaceful,
And later, after a tame storm
has ripped spent petals
from the early herbs, this moment.
And that; there. No dripping foliage
but the slightest stir
of questioning birdsong in bare air.
A prism in my fist
stretched to the sun,
I cast a single
synthetic
rainbow.
Today is the last day of early Summer. "Tornado" is a musing on a Buddhist scrap of wisdom that I'm puzzling out.
