a blackbird lands on my garden fence
above where strings of prayer flags
are flapping in the morning wind.
it looks me in the eye a moment
through the gap between drawn curtains.
next time it might be a horse, a man,
and who knows what i'll be,
though something--i'm not ready yet
for the great launch into empty sky.
i blink. the blackbird disappears.
goodbye birdie, and fare well.
i hope those prayers the wind set free
help you find a longer, sweeter life.
now i'm off to the benjo
with a book about tibet.