Monsoon Season

At dawn, Country in Time of Peace, meets me

Beside the lotus near the lake canteen,

Where pools of water greet the Southern Sea,

Along the mountain shroud of grey and green.

—

While heavy air endeavors to dissuade,

Trees' hanging vines veil both sides of the street.

Through misty tunnel, one direction laid.

So swimming on, two shallow voices meet.

—

We enter into gardens most serene.

From the pagoda, watch the Koi commune—

Rain drops conspire to obscure the scene.

He speaks reflections of an ageless moon.

—

The morning meets my gaze and breaks away,

And each turns towards the Tao a different way.