in touch

in touch

in Japan, a villager
rests on tatami mats
while sipping tea…
a light and grassy taste…
gazes at a bamboo…pine tree garden
laced white with blossomed plum
azalea…and wisteria…
he breathes in musty damp
of clay lined lily ponds
where circling koi flash golden…
and spreading moss and pebbled paths
draw his thought to insight

In China, a flutist
on a stone arched bridge
plays his silver flute
threading lines of melody
into a mist of evening…
while listeners pause their errands
and cease speaking
to hear compelling sound

In Gansu, awed visitors
circle round and round
a bronze green flying horse
treading on a swallow’s back…
it seems…the swallow is alarmed
to feel the glancing touch of hoof
while the horse gasps with the sense
of flight on top of flight

In Kao-Lin, a ceramist
at a potter’s spinning wheel
inhales the dense and earthy smell
of soft white Kao-Lin clay…
eyes closed, he uses fingers…mind
with just experience of touch
to live life’s supreme sense arbiter
against oblivion

Bonnie Marshall

Han Dynasty…”The Flying Horse of Gansu”