Sorrel River

               <for Li T’ai-Po>


Worn cliffs and falling leaves

Calm a short history –

This blue fountain of autumn.


By the river,

Yellow candles of poplars

Bring back spent evenings

in a parchment of twilight fields.


When Orion comes up in a silver skiff of fire,

Our voices ink aural shadows along the village wall –

And we go so slowly.


Over the stone towers of men,

The dark sky is brushed with sparrows

As silk threads of moonlight

Spin clouds from your still white hair.