Pollen-filled winds
whistle
in the spring garden.
The hummingbird
hovered over the snail
and whispered:
I miss your Zen and calm.
The snail smiled
and replied:
On a dewy sunlit morning,
I crawled to the summit
of a mossy boulder
and whispered
between exasperated breaths:
I miss your Zen and calm.
The boulder smiled
thinking to itself:
How I weigh down
the tension and secrets
of the rumbling grounds
underneath.
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