The fragrant August hostas

Blooming along the stone wall

Bear good tidings–

There are still many warm days ahead

Midst disrupted normal life

In the year of pandemic.

Scooping up water from the river

With my cupped hands

Wondering how rivers sweep

Around the boulder

Without disturbing its flow.

Reflecting faces with smiles

And twinkling eyes float by,

Fearing they might disappear,

They are distorted, but still tiptoe

Around the boulder.

The price of fear is priceless

And it’s best to keep

It in its own silo.


Year of the Rat