Friday, June 5, 2009

soup bowl

held examined colored red and empty
red like the clay along the road this morning
not the red of the scarf tied to the pole
empty like the mind when calm
evening light tries a few last dances
with trees feeling the breeze push
a pot stirred steaming sitting
bamboo whisk, the sound of chopping
One last stir, ladle, dip and pour
No spoon, sip and slurp and smile

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