In China the hills are steep,
with plots of fertile land
terraced almost to the river’s edge
where an old man basks in the sunshine,
holding a bamboo pole
baited to lure unwary fish.
–
He sees the glistening water flow smoothly
as it meanders around the bend.
Now and then a bird glides over its surface,
hunting dragonflies.
A frog leaps with a splash,
then disappears among the cattails.
–
Time slips by and a cooling breeze
stirs his long gray beard.
Behind him, the wheels of a cart
slowly move down a well-worn path.
In the distance, a child laughs
and the sun sinks below the mountains.
–
Stiff with age, Wu Ning rises,
shoulders his pole and shuffles home.
No fish today, but it matters not,
for his heart is full.