Zen Pencils by Gavin Aung Than for February 14, 2014

Transcript:

A bird came down the walk he did not know I saw he bit an angle-worm in halves and ate the fellow raw. And then he drank a dew from a convenient grass and then he hopped side wise to the wall to let a beetle pass. He glanced with rabid eyes that hurried all abroad. They looked like frightened beads I thought he stirred his velvet head. Like one in danger cautious I offered him a crumb. And he unrolled his feathers. And rowed him softer home than oars divide the ocean. Too silver for a seam or butterflied off banks of noon. Leap splashless as they swam. -Emily Dickinson