The crane stands placidly
staring through the window
as we earnestly attempt
to imitate him, hoping
he will honor the effort
and not the result.
The Master is graceful
and we far less so, and
out of the corner of my eye
I see what could be smile,
but could be derision as well,
and take comfort in the thought
that the root of the term
is shared with laughter,
and we can accept that,
not as a mark of our failure
but our gentle effort.
The crane returns to the pond,
the Master to the neigong
and we to imagining we
are all noble birds
ready for flight.