Thursday, January 7, 2010

the door ajar, expecting a sound


a furry sound
As a cuckoo rising from fire
As your arrival scented with leaves

I do not know how waves connect to childhood
Yet when evening falls, I always hear
You stoop inside me, washing your hands
In ready tranquility

Perhaps an earring can be a small sunny day
Perhaps autumn's accordion trembles like a stream

Strolling at dusk, breaking dew and butterflies
I hear grass tickle doorsteps, as sweet a sound
As your arrival
Scented with leaves

Water's effort to remain calm pains me most
And even the blossoming pear tree grates me
I fear the shape of the wind, as leaves
Hold their breath near the fruit's skin
And three roses bow to me in profusion

This is when I know
I am ajar
Between the anticipation of the ring and latch
In a lonely sort of joy

As the swing in the woods, and outside the window
The snowy evening

-Snowy Evening by Zheng Danyi

Image via Avignon in Photos

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