Doug Anderson: Homage to Tu Fu

Snow quiets away the day.

Still it falls, and the horses

gather it on their backs.

Black water moves beneath the ice

where the Swift and Ware rivers meet.

Sorrow is muffled in its softness.

Death is finally kind. There is

nothing to fear, says the snow.

No, and the mind clears.

The storm thickens in this field

away from the town

somewhere behind the swirling white.

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