September 07^th, 2024

I live beneath a green cliff
The weeds I don’t mow flourish
In the yard
New vines hang down
All twisted together
Old rocks rise up straight
In precipitous slopes
Monkeys pick the mountain fruit
Egrets catch the pond fish
With one or two of the
Immortal’s books beneath
The trees I mumble
Reading aloud.

Han-shan