July 01^st, 2020

A small temple
High on a mountain
Clouds and low hanging mist,
Layers of peaks;
A freezing spring flows over small pebbles,
Pure snow falls from tall pines;
Asking about the Dharma:
I regard poetry as false,
Disciplining my body:
I see wine as indolence;
I’m not ready to give up wife and children,
But I will site a house close to the front peak.