—
Cuckoo sings to cuckoo.
The morning is a still lake
Reflecting silver light.
—
I give the mountain my breath.
The mountain gives me back silence.
We rest motionless.
—
The river has a poet’s mouth,
Meandering and easy,
Called by sunlit and dangerous horizons.
—
Rain dissolves the view
Sitting still
Surrounded with birdsong
–
Resting in silence
We become the view.
Who holds this bowl?
–
simonhlilly 
“morning is a still lake” – love it!
Many thsnks!
Full of little gems this.
Thanks, Ben. I had to change the app I used for collecting my writing ( became redundant and non-functional with newer iPads – I do hate that!), and it has rather thrown off my postings. So I am still going through this summer’s scribblings to sift out the harmonious from the random mutterings)….
Yes. It’s always annoying when our technological servants start transforming into masters, Grrr!