Boundless and empty to townsfolk, South Mountain peaks.
But here immortals dance among indomitable pines.
Above the sun blue herons fly into paper folded clouds
– azure heaven change – clouds the body, clouds the wings.
Sonorous bird songs radiant clarity – makes mountain forests sing.
Wing beats move the clouds, red dust clears from rivers
and peaks. Streams of ochre flood forests and fields,
canyons and gorges, jades and emeralds rise.
Scattered petals on crystalline swells – night slowly lengthens –
coldness wanders by but I believe I will linger here, a little longer.
Should be the final time I revisit this.