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The ficus tree

The ficus tree

is a few meters in front of my desk.

I can see it whenever I look up,

and it seems still.

Each leaf is like a mini violin.

So many hidden melodies hanging there,

and only in my sleep,

they play together.

When I wake up in the morning,

the ground is covered with all of the notes,

and a new verse appears on the branches.

They rehearse and perform repeatedly,

enjoying it and never getting tired.

Yet am I frittering away my time?

Or just like them, delightful changes

always happen, but only inside.

The outside seems still.

Yanlan Yu, China-Canada