With every gust of wind, the butterfly changes its place on the willow.
When your consciousness has become ripe in true zazen-pure like clear water, like a serene mountain lake, not moved by any wind-then anything may serve as a medium for realization.
Come out to view / the truth of flowers blooming / in poverty.
Come, see the true flowers of this pained world.
The moon is brighter since the barn burned.
Winter garden, the moon thinned to a thread, insects singing.