
Autumn breeze.
Landing lightly
on the hurried streets.
The last cicadas
clearing the summer sky.
In the distance the sight
of cold moonlit nights.
My life in such moments.

Autumn breeze.
Landing lightly
on the hurried streets.
The last cicadas
clearing the summer sky.
In the distance the sight
of cold moonlit nights.
My life in such moments.

As I was walking
in a fickle late-summer shower.
The first leaf fell.
A sudden death before my eyes.
For a moment there.
I stopped and thought of you.
Now I understand this is
a world of dew.

Within stillness.
A perfect way.
A mind at peace.
Nothing in the laugh,
nothing in the cry.
Just a harvest of life.
The mud and the lotus.
So, I sit here.
Side by side with nothing.
Breathing in.
Breathing out.
Sharing our humanity.
Awakened to
mind, mind, mind.

The sun goes down
behind the tall buildings.
Then nothing stands
between me and
the moon above.
If fate agrees.
I will see another day.
And the first falling
leaf of the season.

Peacefully, quietly.
I said goodbye
to Nanjing.
All and everything.
grows, and
becomes beautiful.
And in my path.
In front and behind.
Nothing more than
an age of memories.

(Written in the grounds
of Jiming Buddhist Temple
Nanjing, China)
A echo from
the mountains.
An ancient tune
from long ago.
Birds dancing.
The circle of the sun
rising over the
Buddhist temple.
This is the place
to be right now.

On such a hot and
humid day in Nanjing.
The sounds of the streets,
a long and broad tongue
kept me going.
I heard a myriad of voices.
Some understood,
others less so.
How can I relate to others,
I was asked.
I told them…..
Move steadily.
Become interested.
Don’t pass judgement.
And you will unite the world.

Wearing the hot sun
on my pink forehead.
I have arrived in Nanjing.
Leaving my worries
and uncertainties behind.
I set out to explore the city.
Time to sit, drink coffee
and write a poem.
How peaceful this garden is.
It has a sent from long ago.
That is easy to follow.
I think I will stay for a while.

Summer still here.
Shimmering on a sleepy pond.
Humming away.
The cicadas try and
capture the moment.
But it is left to the poet.
To herald the coming
of our autumn clouds.

Sit with me
and watch the rain.
And after the
anger dries up.
You will still be
in the same place.
But the scent of rain persists.
And if you choose….
Says something on the nature
of anger, love and
your chance to shine.