On A Bare Branch A Crow Is

From All These Trees, In The Salads, The Soup, Everywhere, Cherry Blossoms Fall.

A Weathered Skeleton In Windy Fields Of Memory, Piercing Like A Knife.

If I Had The Knack I'd Sing Like Cherry Flakes Falling

Come, Butterfly It's Late- We've Miles To Go Together.

Go To The Pine If You Want To Learn About The Pine, Or To The Bamboo If You Want To Learn About The Bamboo. And In Doing So, You Must Leave Your Subjective Preoccupation With Yourself. Otherwise You Impose Yourself On The Object And You Do Not Learn.