–after Wang Wei

To avoid the stink of incense at the temple,
I wander a few miles along a foggy trail.
No one anywhere on the ancient path between the trees.
A bell rings deep in a dark ravine,
a spring gurgles down a steep rock gulley.
Bright chestnuts chill the prism of slanting light.
At dusk I sit by the calm deserted pool
in the posture of the water dragon.

♦

From Stone Nest by Richard Collins © 2025, used with permission of Shanti Arts Publishing

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