from Peach Blossom Spring

"The people, seeing the fisherman, were greatly startled and asked where he had come from. When he had answered all their questions, they invited him to return with them to their home, where they set out wine and killed a chicken to prepare a meal."
– from Preface to the Poem on the Peach Blossom Spring








Saul had previously only walked briefly through these small towns littered along the high ridge roads of the bluffs. Many of the lives that he passed there had looked quite dull and routine and so that he had never considered stopping, but merely walked past admiring the forests that lined the small green parks and avenues, but this day, now that he claimed spot in the world up among the rocks and the oak savannah, he decided to stop.

All this time, he thought, has been on the move.
Step by step over miles of gravel only to pass.
He looked up, in among the tall pines, to a majesty
hard to know from the distance of a moving car.
It was spring, still quite cool, and a few patches
of rounded snow sat gathering at the outer edges
of where the circles of warmth spread from the pines.
So this might very well be the place for sitting.
Out in the town the cycles of samsara didn't bother.
He could see the cafe owners and the barbers
diligently at their work, stooping over customers,
using their crafts and trades for their betterment.
All the while, look behind the city, he thought,
that old green world which cradled the buildings,
which provided the birdsong and footprints of mystery.
It was so easy for all, including himself, to forget
about those things that don't speak or get us anything.
He laid down his pack and sat on the pine needles
and listened to the raindrops scratch the street.