My mind is soaring above the path;
Here, in the deep mountains, year in
Year out, my temples turn snow white.
Day by day I cherish my tiny orchard
And earth my vegetable patches up;
My hut I sweep diligently by pine twigs
At sunset, once a day.Burning incense,
I open my only reference scripture --
The Book of Circular Changes --
The current things spread before my eyes
In numbers, images and symbols.
Drawing the curtains, I contemplate
Thru the thick mist above the jagged cliffs
And the moon reflected in the pool
Just underneath my thatched wicket. . .
Amid my friends, how many of them
Can afford observing Nature at their ease!
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Always,
Deborah
Love ya!
Jane