This was inspired by a Choka I wrote previously, here, when contemplating on the wren.

The woman would sit on the cold concrete during her fifteen minute break. She was wrapped in woolen coat, toque and scarf, shielded by cement pillars. That cold winter, ten years ago, sat in mourning contemplation by a bed of frozen dirt, was once a garden. Twelve months went by as she sat day by day, accompanied by her faithful wren.

bereft, she sits
wren pecks on frozen soil,
a sacred visit

© Tournesol ’15