A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature
I have been your scribe now almost fifty years and soon I’ll be replaced by a younger man and you’ll let me live out my old age in a cottage in the hills as you did old Lin. I have finished your inventory of the armory set it down and sent it to you although you cannot read. You have a concubine who can and she’ll read it to you and you’ll be comforted. I lied, you do not have that many spears, but it won’t matter. There is no one now to contest your power. Therefore I’ll meditate. What a relief to sit by the waterfall and let my mind go like this, each thought a bubble rising from the bottom of a pond where I imagine the bright leaves floating above, like everyone who knows that death is near.
Copyright 2020 Doug Anderson