July 19th, 2021

From master to master, a single thought:
The long warm days of spring.
Sedge grass green under clearing frost;
Herbs fragrant in a gentle wind.
The moon full: the purity of thusness;
Flowers bloom: perfume of the Bodhi tree.
In the courtyard, where orioles call,
I hear, at times, perfect words.

Changoa (d.874)