rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,
rejectomorph
flying_blind

Drying

The storm didn't amount to much, and the day was sunny enough to dry things out. The chilly air in the storm's wake might turn a few more of the remaining handful of green leaves, but the season's brightest display of color is gone. I've been so distracted of late that I barely noticed it. Now the landscape has opened and the distance is laced by bare branches. Nights, Orion rises early and stays late. November is his best month. If I watch him long enough I might fall out of my head soon, joining the real world again. Let's hope.



Sunday Verse


On Climbing Orchid Mountain in the Autumn to Zhang


by Meng Haoran


On a northern peak among white clouds
You have found your hermitage of peace;
And now, as I climb this mountain to see you,
High with the wild geese flies my heart.
The quiet dusk might seem a little sad
If this autumn weather were not so brisk and clear;
I look down at the river bank, with homeward-bound villagers
Resting on the sand till the ferry returns;
There are trees at the horizon like a row of grasses
And against the river's rim an island like the moon
I hope that you will come and meet me, bringing a basket of wine—
And we'll celebrate together the Mountain Holiday.
Subscribe
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.
  • 0 comments