I am the brown leaf
Swept from underneath
Blown across a beaten path
Ignored by strangers
Touched by the winds wrath
I am the angry downpour
Blasted from heavens teeth
Giving a cliff-side bird grief
I am the sack of rice
Providing food for all the mice
In the tiny house
Filled with spice and louse
I am the boiling kettle
Made with crude iron metal
Warming the lonely traveler
Who has only just begun to settle
I am in all, and all is in me
I am in the bird, and I am in the tree
If you look for me
You will not find
If you think of me
Do not use your mind
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