Monday morning, standing on the District Line wondering how there could possibly be any relationship between this experience and a country life, when I looked up and saw a Poem on the Underground. But just as I read the first line - my nearly zen moment - the seat below me became free. Now I was in a quandary. Body or spirit? Ever pragmatic (how else could I live my rus in urbis life?) I took the seat, got my camera out and took this slightly wonky snapshot to read later. But the interesting thing was that the two men standing in front of me, curious as to what had interested me, started to read the poem too. I could not quite make out what they thought of it. Maybe they have gone home to tell someone this story from their perspective. Maybe they had nearly zen moments too.