The heron is back


We are surrounded by wild fires for several days started by thousands of lightning strikes. Air quality was poor for a few days because of the smoke.

I have been walking every day since Saturday except yesterday.

I am happy to see the heron is back.

Note: Books I finished reading: Bell by Iris Murdoch and Dante’s Divine Comedy (Inferno) translated by Hollander and Hollander.

Reflection

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Invent reality?

Is there a minimum of thought

One has to do everyday?

 

She is playing a guitar

and humming then singing

about ideas and consequences

then stops and starts writing furiously

“Examine your own courage

if you can get up every morning

with a better will than the day before?”

A cat comes, nozzles in her arms

She touches her with equal affection

then she looks at me and exclaims:

“Is it sad or meaningful or ostentatious to say—

I hiked Switzerland the whole summer?

Or I hug cows to relieve my stress?”

The cat jumps, goes to the window, sits purring.

 

Time folds, distorts harmony of living

Why bemoans the loss during the pandemic

Thousands are dying, millions lost their jobs,

thousands are lining up for food.

 

Time has changed unlike any other time:

A call for one another to stay together.

The Place

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The Place

The surprise of hearing my own voice

like seeing slivers of light filtered between the trees

The words are whispered which I could have missed

Words of encouragement, a push

My eyes are closed, my attention sharpened

I am resting a bit after walking long

My breathing is trying to catch up with my steps

In trying to reach my goal I struggle

There are benches, handrails, sources of spring water

I am vulnerable but not feeble.

I am not alone, or helpless

Though night is approaching I am not lost.

Is it the wind or spirit descends from above the trees

A voice telling me a place in eternity

The place where I am going.

 

Decision

May be it’s to answer a call or blind fate in finding something

You decide to hike the Appalachian Trail.

The trail is kind to the brave and humble

The pain and sweat and determination

Stay with every step in solidarity with others.

To reach the summit the climb becomes steeper

You have to grab handholds firmly

And pull yourself up with steady upper body strength

In the thin air your heart has to persevere

Your legs gather the steps almost like forever

You do not lose sight of your stamina and purpose

Till a shout of triumphal gratitude.

 

You  are in your nineties now

Seldom mention the deep meaning of your accomplishment

You often smile when someone talks about hiking or a climb

You walk only two to three miles a day.

Length of Stay

Length of Stay

There is no more boredom or uneven walk on the hiking trail
No more mere acorns and colored pebbles from the riverbed
A new day of catastrophe’s widening reach
Wearing a mask wherever one goes
Suspicion of catching the virus when traveling, talking with friends and strangers
Living in narrow corridors
A suffocating feeling, counting the hours
Waiting when the end come?
With fear of being left alone and contagious

Today I walk to the river
There is a pink breasted bird flying from one branch to another, from one tree to another tree
Tweeting and communicating in a high pitch bird talk
I see a fisherman attending to his line
The fish has not touched any of his baits
But living is not all about intensity and patience
Not all about uncertainties and business hours
Life is also about the every day simplicity: corn on the cob and opening an umbrella during the rain,
A good book, kind thoughts, and Beethoven
And kissing you goodnight.

At The River

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8E5397D0-B672-47FF-B507-0F5BFDB8A7D5At The River

The lines are cast

The fish are not biting

A fisherman wonders why

I don’t know

From a distance in the walking path

Two walkers are approaching

Ask them the question when they arrive.

The base of a tree is surrounded by stones

The other trees are not.

It’s winter even in a tiny vineyard

Meantime I’m walking back home

I’m thinking what I will have for lunch

Will xfinity know?

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Attention

She sits on the sand

listening to the sound of the sea

There are a few people on the beach

Some are waiting for the sunset

She waits for the green flash.

A loud sound of a car crashing distract her thoughts

Like tiny fevers that affect the carpenter’ mind

Sounds of hammering, falling nails, slip of a saw

She runs to the road, a car

Smashed against a tree

She opens the car door quickly

Pulls the driver out, bleeding, moaning

Assessed the situation quickly, calls 911

Still shaken after the ambulance leaves

She returns and looks at the ocean again

And see not just darkness that veils the horizon

She sees farther, lines of light, 

Bright as her thought

Or she sees clearly what’s in front of her

She still misses or only glances

For things with deeper meaning

How fragile is time and beauty

Simple thread, as we are,in the tapestry of the universe.

We may not even be able to say goodbye.

The Lightness of Carrying an Epidemic

The Lightness of Carrying an Epidemic

New drink from the ginger roots pulled out from the garden

A glass, freshly boiled and rich with honey

You plan to replenish your depleted immunity

The storms of microbes are dousing the plane passengers

All coughing now and feverish

Chinese medical reports an epidemic in the chicken farms

Spreading from airports to airports

When they arrived home children will carry the virus with their books

From class to class, backpacks, playgrounds and sleep overs

The virus travels like a seasoned wanderer, unhindered and silent.