Calligrapher
Oh! If I were a Japanese painter
I could do justice to where I sit now,
on top of a rock by the river
watching a pale sun weakly glow.
Through the overcast it will create
a calligrapher's world of subtle lines,
infer creatures that habituate
the river. With a slight wash give the signs
that the next storm means to collect its debts
of the few orange leaves left on the trees that
marked a long years sunrises and sunsets.
So we end this year with a clean clear palette.
I and my golden dog are small figures
on the rock by the woodblock signatures
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