Zigman Zibanski fell drunk into a Zen Garden. A gentle monk lifted him up and sat him on a stone large and mossy. He offered green tea and spoke kindly to Zigman, words of concern and of encouragement to walk along a simpler path. The monk waited till soberness came to the drunken one. Then he brought him safely home and returned to the Zen Garden, where he tended to the grass where Zigman had fallen. The sun would set soon so the gentle monk worked quickly and purposefully to mend the earth to the way it had been earlier in the day.
The next evening at the One Lucky, Zigman sipped warm sake. Drunk he soon became. But he saw clearly through an emply glass: of a gentle monk and simpler way.
Poetry Pantry #359
1 hour ago