I Wish I Were A Talking Squirrel

I read about a peony spending its whole day giving fragrance to the wind,

And I thought to myself, I’d like to be a peony.


Then I saw three ducks taking flight and leaving ripples on a lake,

And I wished in my heart, I were a lake.


Then I heard a squirrel chattering from high overhead upon a limb,

And I wondered, what would I say if I were him—


Would I wish I were an acorn?

Or when I looked into the sky, would I long to be a passing cloud?


Might I wish to be the oak I’m perched on,

or to be whisked far beyond the ground?


Imagine spending your whole day giving fragrance to the wind—

And still having a place to call home at night.


I spend my days doing the business of making a living,

Because living like a peony is a riddle I cannot solve.


If I were a lake I would be homeless,

Because a lake has no home.


And if I were a talking squirrel,

I’d be richer than my wildest dreams—


And then I could spend my days giving fragrance to the wind.







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