Shundo David Haye – Zen Priest

In spring trees shrouding palace windows, 
a spring oriole sings dawn light into song.

It sets out to startle the world, stops short, 
flutters here, there. Return impossibly far, 

it hides deep among dew-drenched leaves, 
darts into blossoms and out, never settled.

We wander life, no way back. Even a simple birdcall
 starts us dreaming of home again.