Thursday, September 23, 2010

By the Pond at Liu Pei T'ing *

Slow rain falls on hollow stone;
your lute lies silent on the bench.
Wind stirs the open pages
of your book.
The wine is gone.
My cup floats on the green curve of the canal.
Before it finishes its small journey
I must write this poem.

* The Pavilion of Floating Cups

From Tales From the Holograph Woods:
Speculative poems