Hiking to the hilltop
To get a better view,
I found myself in clouds
That edged the sky of blue.
Standing upon a cliff,
(How high? I cannot know,)
I doubt cloud would catch me,
If I'd let myself go.
But it looked so fluffy,
Like it could bear my weight,
But then the sky 'd looked clear
From down the valley strait.
I guess the moral is:
One just can't trust the sky;
If you leap into the clouds,
It's certain that you'll die,
& when you think the sky clear
You may be denied.
a leaf speeds over
the falls; is trapped below,...
bobs to the surface.
In seed-time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy.
Drive your cart and your plough over the bones of the dead.
The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom.
Prudence is a rich ugly old maid courted by Incapacity.
He who desires, but acts not, breeds pestilence.
The cut worm forgives the plough.
Dip him in the river who loves water.
A fool sees not the same tree that a wise man sees.
He whose face gives no light shall never become a star.
Eternity is in love with the productions of time.
The busy bee has no time for sorrow.
The hours of folly are measured by the clock,
but of wisdom no clock can measure.
All wholesome food is caught without a net or a trap.
Bring out number, weight, and measure in a year of dearth.
No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings.
A dead body revenges not injuries.
The most sublime act is to set another before you.
If the fool would persist in his folly he would become wise.
Folly is the cloak of knavery.
Shame is Pride's cloak.
Prisons are built with stones of law, brothels with bricks of religion.
The pride of the peacock is the glory of God.
The lust of the goat is the bounty of God.
The wrath of the lion is the wisdom of God.
The nakedness of woman is the work of God.
angular rocks
softened by soil & grass
to copy cloud shapes.
wildflowers thrive
in the cracks of a cascade;
their days numbered.
Daughters of Time, the hypocritic Days,
Muffled and dumb like barefoot dervishes,
And marching single in an endless file,
Bring diadems and fagots in their hands.
To each they offer gifts after his will,
Bread, kingdoms, stars, or sky that holds
them all.
I, in my pleached garden, watched the
pomp,
Forgot my morning wishes, hastily
Took a few herbs and apples, and the Day
Turned and departed silent. I, too late,
Under her solemn fillet saw the scorn.
leaving the forest,
see the last light of the day
warm the hilltop.
Spades take up leaves
No better than spoons,
And bags full of leaves
Are light as balloons.
I make a great noise
Of rustling all day
Like rabbit and deer
Running away.
But the mountains I raise
Elude my embrace,
Flowing over my arms
And into my face.
I may load and unload
Again and again
Till I fill the whole shed,
And what have I then?
Next to nothing for weight,
And since they grew duller
From contact with the earth,
Next to nothing for color.
Next to nothing for use,
But a crop is a crop,
And who's to say where
The harvest shall stop?
bats hang in bamboo —
blanket-wrapped in wings —
hang like their food, fruit.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 