枯枝ぽきぽきおもふことなくsnapping dead branches, thinking of nothing

焚きつけの枯枝を、ぽきぽきと折ってゆく。手だけが動いて、頭は何も考えていない。「おもふことなく」が、悩みの多かったこの人の言葉だと思うと、この無心の時間のありがたさが伝わってくる。冬の朝の、手仕事の句。He snaps dead branches for kindling, crack after crack. Only his hands move; his mind thinks nothing at all. When you recall that "thinking of nothing" comes from a man of many troubles, the blessing of this empty-minded time comes through. A poem of handwork on a winter morning.