The perfumes compliment, jasmine and rose,
transcending centuries and continents,
two schools will not rob nor superimpose
for one preserves while one experiments.
Sweet, tiny buds in telegraphed blooms
which let life’s moments linger for hours,
each snatching observations from air,
oh, top notes infuse rooms
leaving imprints like small, pressed flowers
that were precisely pruned with thought and care.
Senses and seasons, so much to compose,
in a form that sailed from the orient,
enamored poets mean not to impose
while they waltz dragons without their consent.
Calligraphy calms though keyboards now boom,
toad lilies thrive beside ivy bowers.
Beauty knows no borders, art is ensnared
upon silk’s rigid loom
and Japanese Waxwings will not cower
from the loud chatter of British Fieldfares*.
I savor the snippets that scribes expose
those that kowtow and those who backwards bend
for the voice they use, the voice that ‘now’ chose
understands labels do not change content.
See, there a second that wept in the gloom ~
Hiroshima’s cloud engulfed two towers
and both Fuji and Snowdon lose views rare.
Himeji’s halls, Henry’s hooms*
still stand tall for history empowers,
but the future, too, has riches to share.
*A fieldfare is a bird of England. Waxwings are often depicted on Chinoiserie.
*Hoom is an archaic spelling (Chaucer period, England) for home
Himeji is a famous castle in Japan built in the 1300's and Henry refers to king Henry