A river flows in front of me
Each intrusion of thought a leaf
falling atop the flow
Out of sight
Out of mind
There are no birds singing here
no deer in a clearing
no breeze rustling through trees.
There is no here here.
Mmmm. I can hear it.
Dear Kari, your poem took me into the long "ooom" of a breath. The Buddhist breath that is all creation in a single sigh. Thank you. Peace.