Hundreds of cold sparrows dive into the empty courtyard, cluster on plum branches and speak of sun after rain at dusk. They choose to gather en masse and kill me with noise. Suddenly startled, they disperse. Then, soundlessness.
NOTE: This translation from: Barnstone, Tony & Chou Ping. 2005. The Anchor Book of Chinese Poetry. New York: Random House. p.422.
three crows circled up.
their conversational look
makes me nervous.
bee-eater sits still -- not searching, not flitting: worried of bee's plight?
bird at work:
flitting branch to branch,
seeking perfect seeds.
egrets & herons
stand on lily pads, only
sinking when stepping.
gull on the prowl: wings move erratically, head methodically.
a plump heron
walks on lily pads: my own
Personal Jesus.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 