Somewhere between awake and relaxed,
inside a new feeling caught in the hour,
a city cultures a white Chinese garden.
Blooms circles that amuse a pair of dragons,
and the tails are ivy creepers against clouds.
Hangs low the bridge for stone reflections
across the pond’s kinship to mossy falls.
To be a pigeon’s companion in this quiet
that pauses in couples on benches, that waits
for the next footfall to pass bamboo spears.
Tall guardians in the peace for an emperor
who fled to the temple of no revolution.
Who is known for silken motifs carved deep,
uttered under a rising sun, light for a haiku
scene that fondly bestows on a visitor grace.
Close the gates and remember how it was.
