i pry few rocks to see shells
crabs run for cover to shelter
finger size flow from cracks
flowing to file of small rocks
there's pool of water under
enough to sustain my herd
it's blessing to know where
to find what you're looking for
could it be food for thought
or orchard to pick fresh fruit
there's certain bit of patience
that always i know go with it
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem