Sometimes, when a bird cries out,
Or the wind sweeps through a tree,
Or a dog howls in a far-off field
I hold still and listen a long time.
My world turns and goes back to the place
Where, a thousand forgotten years ago,
The bird and the blowing wind
Were like me, and were my brothers.
My soul turns into a tree,
And an animal and a cloud bank.
Then changed and odd it comes home
And asks me questions. What should I reply?
Herman Hesse
The Hesse poem sent in by Eleanor Tauber, long time contributer to the blog.
Photographs: Donna Browne
Very, very nice.
ReplyDeleteHere's a quote from the comments section of a story where medical person in training saved a baby tiger(in, alas, a zoo) from choking on a piece of meat:
"Too many people in the world, and not enough tigers."
That about sums up our planet's life to me, hope we have some chance of fixing that.