When A Person Speaks In The Forest
Poems From The Porch
The green leaves of the ligustrum are waving a greeting today.
Lucy and I can see them from our snuggly perch in my prayer chair.
The sounds of the morning are silent to our ears in our warm, homey nest.
Beyond the window, I notice the silver water rippling gently under the oak,
a remnant of the drenching rain lately received,
and I wonder if the doves are still cooing and the rooster yet crowing,
if no one is there to hear them—
a musing derived from the famous Zen koan that asks,
“Does a tree make a sound when it falls in the forest if no one is there to hear it?”
Yet again I am invited to be present to everyone and everything,
to see them and truly listen,
to feel with them and validate their struggles.
In this way, the koan and my question
are moot points.