He was standing in the lane at dusk. Standing as if waiting for a bus, or to cross the road. Not going anywhere it would seem. We pass him. Put our hands together in gassho. I wonder. Is he waiting to ask a question? Did I goof or something. He senses that we might wonder what’s he’s doing there. Just standing still.
I’m listening to the birds, he said. I think they are going to bed!
…and that’s just what I’m going to do. And tomorrow I’ll remember to stand still and listen to the birds. At least once.