Despite dense clouds, nothing has precipitated outdoors all night but a bit of icy mist. Indoors, however, unintentional sleep was precipitated by... well, I have no idea. There is no reason for this to have happened. All I know is that three hours once again vanished in a dreamless puff. On my lawn, the cold night has preserved four surviving clumps of snow. They look like ghostly hieroglyphs in a lost language, casually scattered along the north edge of the wild plum bushes.
How I Sailed on the Lake Till I Came to the Eastern Stream
by Lu Yu
Of Spring water,-- thirty or forty miles: In the evening sunlight,-- three or four houses. Youths and boys minding geese and ducks: Women and girls tending mulberries and hemp. The place,-- remote: their coats and scarves old: The year,-- fruitful: their talk and laughter gay. The old wanderer moors his flat boat And staggers up the bank to pluck wisteria flowers.