For some minutes my mind knows only a silent stillness within, a meditation without effort, a celebration of occasion. Slowly my vision focuses on a bird of red-streaked, chocolate-covered feathers and bright orange beak... I have been watching her a long while now without registering, labeling or defining her particular condensation of being, taking her as much for granted as she appears to take me. So beautiful. So natural. A bird in a tree.
And one day, when I need
to tell myself something intelligent
about love,
I'll close my eyes
and recall this room and everything in it...
to tell myself something intelligent
about love,
I'll close my eyes
and recall this room and everything in it...