A Hole in a Cloud
--George Scarbrough 

Heretofore in my life, Old Man,
I lived in twenty-three apartments
Of one sort or another,
Never content, moving from street
To street, house to house, room to room.
Somewhere, I was convinced, there
Was a place I could truly call my own.
But my conviction has faded.
I no longer dream and am no more
Than a tramp along the highway.
Here on Exile Mountain I’ve built
A nest in a hole in a cloud,
Being that kind of bird
And no longer a fledgling. 

[from the Han-Shan sequence]