.
At worse we’re birds that gather by
the bird-feeder consuming grain;
at best we search for worms and beetles.
The cardinal whistles something red
while pecking at some darker seed.
His trill, a "sweet-sweet-sweet", is plain
but popular—three simple chords—
with choruses of evergreens
and bright refrains of blue blue sky.
As seen from up above, the show
looks quite absurd: a gang of four,
three blue guitars, and dreamlike drums,
—with microphones to catch our pleas:
like Help!; I’m Down; and Tell Me Why.
~Gregory Perry
an old retired poem revised... it was forty years ago today (give or take ten days)
A PASSING MOMENT
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This is my rather loose translation of a hokku by Ōemaru, who lived into
the first five years of the 19th century. For a moment,Autumn seen on the
hillsAt ...
1 week ago

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