My cramped, little garden was a mess
A funny smell lingered by the drain
I sat alone, was I the only one to greet the morning sun?
Wisps of cloud were scattered across a pale blue canvas
Pleasant birdsong emerged from the silent, peaceful emptiness
Nothing is more fertile than emptiness
The bird continued chirping its pleasant song
Other birds joined in, and the song became a beautiful chorus
The birdsong was unintelligible to me, yet it meant everything to me
The chorus continued a little longer, as the birds sang sweetly to each other
The sounds emanated from the silent emptiness, then dissipated, only to begin again
Somehow, in my cluttered garden, the eternal dance of creation and destruction, life and death, transformation and renewal, played out before me
Was I the only one to meet this quiet, peaceful morning?
Ahh, the warm sun felt nice upon my skin
I'm grateful to be alive
