on a cool winter’s eve,
letting herself be known
to those nearby,

who slowed and paused
and stayed a while,
breathing in


thank you for doing nothing

Thank you for doing nothing

In a place where people generally did
as little as possible,
peace and harmony reigned

Thank you for doing nothing,
read a sign near the gate to the village

A bit of music was made
now and then,
and paintings sometimes appeared upon walls,
but for the most part people did nothing
except go on walks and along the way
gather food they wanted eat later on
or sit on a porch and watch butterflies
while crow pheasants sang

Sometimes a blanket would be woven
or a roof mended,
and wood was occasionally split
for an evening fire

A bit of cooking and gardening
also took place,
and nothing felt as though it were work

Everyone lived simply
without greatly disturbing
nature and all the other beings

Dwellings were simple, elegant and low to the ground,
and the village existed in another time:

a time to be quiet and kind,
a time to pause the story,
a time to be still
and aware



Some golden tortoise beetles had moved into the neighborhood
and begun to lounge around
underneath some leaves
here and there

There was a rainbow that sometimes went
from the mushroom field to the house on the hill
and appeared for a while

A great variety of trees and flowers
lived quietly among the bungalows,
simply being

And now and then a silent meow
pierced the stillness

lullawakes and lullabies

Lullawakes and lullabies

Lulled to sleep
by a chorus of crickets
and toads

Woken by the songs of birds
pulling gently,
from a dream and into another

Sitting with friends in silence,
the mind still,
simply now