Wednesday, April 27, 2016

The Way of the Bird

This is the season of The Birds. 
This morning I was watching Goldfinches 
chase each other through the sunny 
emptiness of April Woods
around the early green of newborn
leaves on old exploding branches.
Serious Cardinals walked beneath
the recently-filled bird feeder looking
for the scatterings of sunflower seeds.
I was standing by the Picture Window
feeling all this separation
human habitation gives me.
Meanwhile Ranjit is speaking of
the Way of the Bird, a pristine freedom,
not from my conditioning
but freedom of that unborn self,
freedom from all karmic fruit
of action, like forgiveness of
the Magnitude of Nothing to forgive.
The only picture window is
the memory of this Little Mind.
The Apple that I ate is knowledge
and it’s bitter seed belief.
I spit it out and I could watch
the Cardinals scramble for its Meaning
but I fly away.

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