A MOMENT IN TIME

Here is a place of satisfaction,
Contentment is in the air.

Even when the rain beats against the windowsill
Where the starling sits undisturbed in his idle moment
Savoring the sweetness of doing nothing.
Nothingness is a doing of some sort for the starling, a passerine bird,
Who is used to perching and looking; perhaps at the rosemary in the mud?
He is not waiting, because time means nothing to him, he lives in the timeless moment,
Just like the spur-winged plover sleeping in his mid-flight and dreaming of earthworms.
And what matters which route he takes when he gets where he wants to be.
Inside the draughty room sits a cluster of wheat in a blue jar,
Also undisturbed by what his destiny may be: slowly wilting away or
Become a loaf of bread in the morning, for the satisfaction of those sitting at the table.
There even the dust remains undisturbed on a bunch of flowers.
Undisturbed are the starling, the spur-winged plover, the cluster of wheat and the dust.

Here is a place of satisfaction,
Contentment is in the air.