Tracing calligraphy in Asian courtyards, <br />my ears filled with the tune of splashing water, <br />I sit upon a low wall writing this <br />in purple ink <br />inscribed upon the flyleaf like a falling blossom. <br />And you sit near, encompassing your thoughts of love <br />in even lines of four or eight, <br />your cursive, running, hand <br />compressed in seal style upon your page - - <br />You write of darkening mountains, <br />mules and horses, <br />changing sources, <br />flowing fountains - <br />while I turn the pages of this little book <br />of haiku love <br />I bought for you, <br />reading you on every page, <br />in every poem, where <br />the ancient poets sitting once <br />in quiet courtyards <br />saw into your heart.<br /><br />Linda Hepner<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/asian-courtyards/
