Sunday, March 7, 2021

hidden behind the leaves

twentynine

cup cradled on palm, a swipe of hand, a streak across wet pane peering through, dawg there slowly trotting over the red arched bridge, flakes of snow lightly falling, each paw lifting through snow, snow swirling away, ears up and alert, suddenly ashamed of his warmth and comfort; then, at once, a snort and curt laugh: such foolishness, he thought, how frail becoming a distant shade and gone into the density of wood


NOTES
Tao Te Ching 29, D.C. Lau
The external world is fragile, and he who meddles with its natural way, risks causing damage to himself.

No comments:

Post a Comment