The water of time glistens on the rivebed of the universe.
Though theirs is a much slower flow,
stones, trees, houses, and towns are flowing too.
Human beings and all things that have life flow.
Thought and culture., too, flow.
That all these appear to be unchanging is but illusion.

by Shundo Aoyama,
Zen Seeds - Reflections of a Female Priest

II

Owl, ever the reader,
was lost in his book
as Coyoté quietly approached.

Coyoté sat behind the creosote bush, waiting.
Owl muttered.

Coyoté watched from behind the creosote bush.
Owl read more, then flipped a pebble into the stream.

Coyoté sat behind the creosote bush, waiting.
Owl stared at ripples, muttered, "Time! What is time?"

Coyoté waited behind the creosote bush, watching.
Owl frowned at the stream, muttered, "What sound!?!"

Coyoté watched from behind the creosote bush.
Tossed a pebble at Owl, "kerchunk."

Owl jumped, paused, stared.
Coyoté waited behind the creosote bush, watching.

Then he said, "Nuts!"
Loud.

Owl muttered.
Turned.
Stared.

Coyoté said, "Kerchunk."
Then darted away
as Owl flew
into a rage.

Coyoté just said, "Kerchunk!"
And kept running.