Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Ode to Xi Jiang

The sun is rising over the hills and fields of Xi Jiang
Mist rising from the fields of rice clothed in pastel green
Among the thousand houses life awakens yet unseen
And in the distance the sweet voices in gentle song

Is this the Shangri-la from hence the myth was drawn
Where harmony and love blend in happy song
As one sits on the porch and sees the coming dawn
There is a pinch to flesh to see if it is wrong

The nights were spent in lovely song
They passed the wine that came from rice
Sang with the ladies as if to belong
Twas an experience, wonderful and so nice

I still think of travel to this remote oasis
Envisioning mist and light along the ridges
Houses built on poles to catch the morning breeze
A memory, a dream or just a wishful tease