From time to time, I come across something truly extraordinary. Last week’s inspiration was so timely and sweet, it’s been with me this week too. This was printed in this month’s issue of The Sun, and it’s a poem by David Budbill from the collection Moment to Moment: Poems of a Mountain Recluse.

Bugs In A Bowl

Han Shan, that great and crazy, wonder-filled

Chinese poet of a thousand years ago said:

We’re just like bugs in a bowl,

All day going around

never leaving their bowl.

I say: That’s right! Every day

climbing up the steep sides,

sliding back. Over and over again.

Around and around.

Up and back down.

Sit in the bottom of the bowl,

head in your hands, cry, moan,

feel sorry for yourself.

Or.

Look around.

See your fellow bugs.

Walk around. Say,

Hey, how you doing?

Say, Nice bowl!

 

If you’ve got a poem that has just landed in your heart and set down some roots there, share it with me in the comments. Nice bowl!