The Stream

I often dream of living near a stream
with Rumi to keep me company.

I often dream of living near a stream
that gurgles even in the summer.

I often dream of living near a stream
that bubbles with liquid birdcalls.

I often dream of living near a stream
where cicadas buzz in the noon.

I often dream of living near a stream
where pelf and power don't matter.

I often dream of living near a stream
that brings me closer to heaven.

~ ~

The crow

One morning, I slid open the window
and spied a jungle crow
sitting on a branch of the frangipani.

Through tired eyes it looked at me.
The black feathers were dull and weary.
The eyes beneath a worn grey forehead,
appeared to beseech
for a place to rest.

I looked at the bird again.
The beak was long
and curved and sharp.
I slowly drew the window slides.
When I looked out
the crow was gone.