A piping lute calls you. You follow the notes down to the riverbank. And there, what a sight! A Siddhartha with white feathers flaps her feet in a waddling dance. She hops and wriggles, kicking up sand, her silly neck bent with supple grace. She prances on her spindly legs, shakes her sleek roundness, sings her nasal song.

You stand outside her circle, like a mirror of lesser joy, watching this comic buddha with folded wings. You think of a time when your own feathered tail and restless feet could not be contained. And, here, under the moon of your watchful eye, she gives this happiness back to you.

© Merrie Sasaki
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