The Hawk Builds Her Nest
The hawk building her nest over the Zen garden,
does she hear the slow slap of gravel on the wall?
Does she watch for fish darting under the waves?
Does she dive at a flash of fur and suddenly pull up short,
wondering that her dinner should scamper over the waters so?
Does she gyre on Zen thermals to a higher level?
Is she building here for that dry Zen ambience, or just the view?
Does she watch me at work, raking in the pattern,
and deplore on high my ragged lines and insipid curves?
Do the other hawks laugh when she tells them of the slow lake,
do they snigger up their wings and wink their wild yellow eyes?
The hawk building her nest over the Zen garden
is either terribly confused, or truly enlightened.