Rain at Night

North of Solitary Mountain Temple
and west of Chia Pavilion
the water's surface is flattened
by the wet feet of clouds.
Early warblers dart and flutter,
squabbling amid warm trees;
around someone's house new swallows
peck mud for their nests.
Wildflowers will soon flourish
enough to overwhelm one's eyes,
but now the shallow grass
barely submerges a horse's hooves.

I love the east lake most--
I don't come this way often enough;
in the shade of green willows
lies White Sand Embankment.

Rate this poem: 


No reviews yet.