A Rainstorm
Before the Festival
Cultivated yellows the rain bent
Snapping some
By the hedge, hibiscus staring at itself in the rain pool
I’m not going out in this blowing wet
My hat has found its way back to the table
Even if my cup really was gold
I’m too drunk to remember where I put it
Early Autumn
Chrysanthemum, pale silk-dye shades
Evening mist cradling far mountains
Cool winds stirring green upper branches
The red lute holds a clear note
Lets it go
Time spins more brocade
My husband has duties beyond the Great Wall
Making your way, wild geese through open sky
Fish in swift rivers, end this longing
Here are my letters
An Affair
The red lute reminds me he is gone
Cloudy chords, rain
The memories our bodies made
I try to remember his scent
Aroma of plums, ripe peaches
Disciples all so worthy, following into the pine groves
Under laurel canopies
Listening to the teachings
People came miles
Moonlight weightless on the mossy terrace
From bamboo depths a song floats up
Childish disappointment
Leaves, turning now, heaped against my door
In the courtyard, vermillion
Until next time
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