Divination

I scatter yarrow stalks
on the garden tiles-
and can not find them again.

I observe the flight
of geese migrating south once more
- stand bemused, forgetting the question.

I roast the tortoise's shell-
so appalled at this second desecration
I read the cracks through blurred eyes.

I scan the characters of Li Po,
stunned again by their beauty,
I cannot put words beside them.

I have lost three coins.
They embody the tri-gram
Gentle wind; arousing thunder.

4/24/00

   

Copyright 2000 by Andrew MacArthur