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The Journey to the West

Though we journey to the West We pray to the East More or less that's the way Each day begins and ends It’s a tale everyone ...

Sunday, July 22, 2018

A Summer Storm

Banished to a windswept isle
Last night I woke overcome
By an approaching storm
Wind had taken full possession
Of the surrounding trees
Which danced with abandon
As the voices of ten thousand
Restless souls clamored
To be heard if only a proper
Means of transcription
Could be found
Near at hand

Sitting up straight
Hollow reed that I am
The wind played
All of my stops
A swirling symphony
With as many layers
As a wedding cake 
Yet resistant to any
More definite form

Painting by Antônio Parreiras

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