Sunday, April 3, 2011


On a poem jag lately. It will pass like a head cold in summer. I hope it isn't contagious. Zhao Chang was a 12th century Chinese artist. It might change, but at least the word "jasmine"will let me alone now
The sound, color, the aroma
All step softly on Zhao Chang's white silk branch
As he guides you to a land only read about
Until now
Say the word
Let the color live in your eyes
Breathe deep the scent
Time, having no choice,
Lies down on spring fields
Waiting for you

1 comment:

  1. Ronnie - this isn't just an "attaboy" are getting really good (or have been all along?) at this poem stuff... Miss Forrestal would be so proud!!!