
6. Riding the Bull Home
3/28/2021
Mounting the bull, slowly I return homeward.
The voice of my flute intones through the evening.
Measuring with hand-beats the pulsating harmony, I direct the endless melody.
Whoever hears this melody will join me.
Comment: This struggle is over; gain and loss are assimilated.
I sing the song of the village woodsman, play the tunes of the children.
Astride the bull, I observe the clouds above me.
Onward I go, no matter who may wish to call me back.
