1939–
Listening Deeply
Listening deeply,
sometimes — in another — you can hear
the sound of a hermit, sighing
as he climbs a mountain trail to reach a waterfall
or a Buddhist nun reciting prayers
while moonlight falls through the window
onto an old clay floor,
and once in a while, a child
rolling a hoop through the alleyways of Tokyo, laughing,
or a farmer pausing in a rice field to watch geese fly,
the thoughts on his lips he doesn’t think to say.