Generosity sometimes means giving less:
less attention to shortcoming,
less words of reproach,
less looks of blame.
There’s too little water in the teapot and cup?
Moments ago, you sat without a thought of tea.
So a half-cup now, more coming—
it won’t stay dry for long.
So why overflow the cup
with noticing what’s missing?
The delicate cup,
strong as the bones
that were crushed to make it—
bone ash and fire—
how the light shines through—

how it retains more than itself
like uncertain clouds hold rain.

Remember the dew in the grass—
how each green blade holds a crystal ball,
knows nothing of future rain—
only satisfaction of its first sip.


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