I often walk along the banks of the Weihe River. A simple pleasure, yet meaningful and mindful in many ways. I wrote this poem yesterday.

All is bright,
under the autumn sun.
Over the weihe river
a flute singing,
tender as the ocean vast.
Each step along the trail,
selfless and virtuous.
For seventy autumns,
our river rushed by
nourishing to grow well.
The water and the clouds long.