Becoming / Being

When the Spring rains woke the sleeping flowers
in the Emerald Mountains of Southern Chi-i,
and the snowmelt gathered and tumbled
to the wild Yellow River far below,
my mind began to wander,
and wolves took two of my sheep.

I had passed the Winter months alone ,
with little but the wind and stars for company,
savoring the solitude of my cottage,
when the quickening life
urged me to roam.

The road through the Emerald Mountains was long.
I traveled by day and slept under the stars,
listening to the music and laughter
drifting on the scented breeze
from the taverns along the great river’s edge.

*****************************

The winds of Autumn tatter the air
in the Emerald Mountains in Southern Ch-i,
and the towns along the river
grow silent and somber.
The laughter and music is gone from the streets,
and the lowering sky makes me think
of the warmth and comfort of home.

 

I give the last of my coins to the innkeeper, drink a last pot of rice wine with friends,

and find the long road back across the Emerald Mountains

…to the wonder-filled solitude of my cottage.