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05/29/10 - (1)
Saturday-Afternoon Idyll
Robins, trilling their sweet rhapsodies, make me so happy, As they eat the tiny red fruit Off densely planted serviceberry-tree stems and twigs. They fill the English Woodland Garden With their joyous arpeggios. Perhaps I've never before gloried In such time-boundless sounds of May's last days.
Seated in the cool shade of this sanctuary, I close my eyes and let the birds' lyrical intimacies Carry off all my thoughts, On their disappearing overtones, echoes, reverberations.
And now it is, that this descending stream, Wending toward the Japanese Garden, Invites me to join it, On its journey toward Seiwa-en — "Garden of pure, clear harmony and peace." Squirrels, chipmunks, waterfowl, and songbirds Inhabit this enchanted urban habitat — Spring's preoccupied creatures Consuming as many shadbush delicacies as they can, Robins, starlings, thrushes perched on limbs, Plucking succulent crimson serviceberries As fast as their beaks can grasp them.
When I ask my eyes to open, they do so, slowly, Not knowing just where they've awakened; It's certainly not the place from which they took leave, Half an hour's eternity ago.
And now, in time, again, It's time, again, to continue on, To the mouth from which this garden's stream cascades, Spouts into the four-and-a-half acre lake That's home to my resident serenity.
But as I'm about to rouse myself From the weathered wooden bench In this shady, secluded covert At the bend at the end of the meandering stream, A bright-green-headed mallard Appears not three feet from me, Waddles to the pool, And enters its cool, moving molecules, Compelling me to close my eyes again, For another spell of Saturday-afternoon idyll, And float in the water's beautiful, soothing music.
05/29/10 - (1)
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