Listen, in the shadowy lee  of

a white flower's petals by

water mirroring the sky above,

to a breeze herding clouds

along a pathway from

what was, toward what will be.

At the end of a long, long road

A village in repose,

Lit up like an evening rose

Greets the weary traveller.

The sun ascends

Unborn clouds

Forecast the shape

Of happiness to come

Many seasons have passed

And still my branches

Reach for the sky

For dreams and hope.