The other day, cutting blackberry bushes
on uneven ground and not happy about it,
a flock of crows flew overhead and landed in the
big spruce, all talking at once, like
old men at a ball game, no body listening
to anybody else. Something about their ruckus
though, vaguely familiar and annoying.
I’ve been to parties like that.
When I sit in meditation a few times a week,
not more than that, since there are so many other things
to do, I think of those crows. Am I like that? I ask
God. Talking and boasting about one thing or another,
and not listening? Yes, She says. Now and then.
I bother Her from time to time with these questions.
–Djohariah Toor
on uneven ground and not happy about it,
a flock of crows flew overhead and landed in the
big spruce, all talking at once, like
old men at a ball game, no body listening
to anybody else. Something about their ruckus
though, vaguely familiar and annoying.
I’ve been to parties like that.
When I sit in meditation a few times a week,
not more than that, since there are so many other things
to do, I think of those crows. Am I like that? I ask
God. Talking and boasting about one thing or another,
and not listening? Yes, She says. Now and then.
I bother Her from time to time with these questions.
–Djohariah Toor