New Years morning.
A gathered light,
of cloud on cloud.
Only the river wei
is silvered.
So this is the sound
of you here.
Glaring in silence
at the walls.
A still life
for another year.
Burning the old year
New Years morning.
A gathered light,
of cloud on cloud.
Only the river wei
is silvered.
So this is the sound
of you here.
Glaring in silence
at the walls.
A still life
for another year.
A Wandering Poet 