Once, when I was more discontent than I knew, Living among Vietnamese exiles in southern France, I spent an afternoon trying to free a butterfly Battering her yellow wings against a window In an old stone barn that had been turned into a zendo. Finally she trusted me and stood on my finger, Saving herself with her surrender and redeeming me. In open air, she flew away into the tall grass Where three tiger kittens with yellow eyes Played near the bamboo grove. One pounced and ate her And looked at me. Yellow eyes, So beautiful.