April 18th, 2019
Wang An-shih (1021-1086)
Through a thousand, ten thousand peaks,
this road between presence and absence
wanders—bees sampling open blossoms,
gibbons climbing trees to dine on fruit.
I search for the Way across a cold creek.
I'd hoped dusk might light the way home,
but the sky's gone dark, no moon rising.
My houseboy will be out closing the gate.