Splashing bird

Today I add another digit to the count of my years, though in some ways, like many if not all of us, I seem to be 35 until I look in the mirror, a passing window on the street, or in the responses of much younger folks.

Splashing Bird

dreams, illusions, passing glories,
never knowing what’s next
the splashing bird pauses, lingers…
again takes flight into the sky

Adapted, with a bow, from Hung-Chih Cheng-Chueh (1090-1157)


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