When dangling….write haiku

I heard a Zen story when I was younger about a warrior who fell off a cliff, grabbed a tuft of grass and dangled. With the grass giving way he knew he was doomed, maybe he had only seconds left before he plunged down onto rocks. Then he saw a wild flower growing in the rock face and he was filled by its beauty. I didn’t get it. I thought it was a pointless story without a punchline…but now I am the punchline…I get it…I’m dangling, as we all are…and the grass handhold is precarious…..but there are beautiful flowers and I love the view and the breeze on my face

. The taste of life is sweeter because of it…and haiku is the art of searching out and savouring this life-full-ness…for me anyway.