Ivy grows up through the boards
of the garden bridge.
A rabbit runs across the bridge
and stops in front of me.
We stare at each other,
waiting to see who will move first.
The next morning I am not there
and the rabbit doesn’t stop.
From Finishing Line Press
A Zen poem on impermanence becoming signless insight. A very good poem.
Thank you.
Refreshing. Like the greens piled up at the farmer’s market.
Nice!
This made me smile. There’s a certain charm and simplicity, but it has me on a hook: how does the speaker know that the rabbit doesn’t stop? And also, what’s the significance of the bridge, and of the ivy? Love it!
Thanks John.