Masters of Zen

On Mogul 

 © Susan Marie

I sit,
perched
like the starlings,
stoic marble,
mottled black and grey,
like a charcoal sketch
drawn by the hands
of one enlightened.

I watch them
diving like kamikazes,
in the frigid winter breath,
pecking at bread,
grateful for crumbs,
their beaks, mighty
their eyes, knowing
they move swift.

- Masters of Zen,
on my balcony -

They have no concerns
for this dying human world,
they teach me
that mindfulness
is a state of existence,
that instinct
outweighs thought,
that I, this fragile human shell
am capable
of flight.

Their wings sound
and resound
right above my head,
standing in
this frigid wind,
grateful for breath,
for the constant beat
of my own heart,
for the wonder
that has been gifted to me
to be able to see

beyond.