Tuesday, 21 November 2017

After The Last Visitor Has Gone

Long after the visitor has gone
The sound of the bell
Lingers amongst birdsong.



Stepping stones scattered
Across the mossy floor
Sunlight, brilliant green.


Beyond the autumn leaves
A tea house roof –
A gentle murmur of voices
Mingling with water’s flow.


Under a brilliant sky
Red, yellow and orange leaves
Barely disturbed by the breeze.


To the camellia flower
A visitor resting,
Lunch perhaps?


Reaching the mountain top
Swallowed by cloud –
No view reveals all.


Softened by rain
The earth breathes
In-breath follows out-breath –
Drip, drip, drip from a pine branch tip.