the wild deer call

my sense

of

the sparse

and partitioned

experiencing

of mid-winter

that i know

is that

if

i hold tightly

to colour and form

no matter how small

a quantity

of each

is present

i will also hold

more tightly

to my self

the wilderness is shadowed with white new-flying snow.

a hundred birds from an empty mountain scatter and return;

three thousand miles of floating clouds darken and lighten;

a wildgoose fledgling, left behind, cries for its flock,

then river waves are calmed

and birds are mute that were singing,

like a long wind swaying a forest, a downpour breaking tiles,

a cascade through the air, flying over tree-tops.

...a wild deer calls to his fellows.

words excerpted from "on hearing dong play the flageolet - a poem to palace attendant fang" by li qi