It is impossible
to pedal my bike
through morning air
carrying sadness or anger.
The light is alive,
my knees young
and Queen Anne’s Lace
doilies
the roadside.
(No. 44 in a series of responses to Han-Shan’s Songs of Cold Mountain)
It is impossible
to pedal my bike
through morning air
carrying sadness or anger.
The light is alive,
my knees young
and Queen Anne’s Lace
doilies
the roadside.
(No. 44 in a series of responses to Han-Shan’s Songs of Cold Mountain)