Summer Lines

Schools of grey and white cloud fish
patrol the aqua-blue aquarium sky.

On sultry summer afternoons,
the mountain is still as a buddha.

A coiling wind softens and sighs
through the cypress and dogwoods.

I stroll out to the river’s edge, where
sun-warmed boulders make good seats.

The stream slows and pools at one spot,
dark shadows glide lazily down below.

Sleepily, I gaze out at the timeless scene.
Before I can compose a line, I’m dreaming.

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