Four Tao philosophers as cedar waxwings
chat on a February berrybush
in sun, and I am one.
Such merriment and sobriety--
the small wild fruit on the tall stalk--
was this always my true style?
Above an elegance of snow, beneath
a silk-blue sky a brotherhood of four
birds. Can you mistake us?
To sun, to feast, to converse and all together--for this I have abandoned all my other lives.
--by Robert Francis
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