The Bamboo Grove

A desperate bird,
fleeing rain, stumbles
upon my little grove
of bamboo,
darts in with a cry
of relief--
don't ask me how
I know,
for I surely speak
no language
of birds.
But I understand
the sound
of immense relief
when finding shelter--
even if only temporarily--
amid storms.

To all of us, creatures
big and small, fleeing
rain and storms:
May the blessed
bamboo groves be there
when we desperately
need them. May we
conveniently shelter
in their thick foliage
in our journeying. Till
that final day
when we finally reach
the eternal
bamboo grove.