June 01st, 2025
Shih-shu (17th c)
Mountain sounds carry a chill wisdom
An upwelling spring whispers subtle tales
Pine breezes stir the fire beneath my tea
Bamboo shadows soak deep into my robeI grind my ink: clouds scraping across the crags
Copy out a verse: birds settling on branches
As the world rolls right on by
Its every turn tracing out non-action