In China the hills are steep,                                        

                                        with plots of fertile land                                              

terraced almost to the river’s edge

where an old man basks in the sunshine,   

holding a bamboo pole

baited to lure unwary fish.

–

He sees the glistening water flow smoothly

as it meanders around the bend.

Now and then a bird glides over its surface,

hunting dragonflies.

A frog leaps with a splash,

then disappears among the cattails.

–

Time slips by and a cooling breeze

stirs his long gray beard.

Behind him, the wheels of a cart

slowly move down a well-worn path.

In the distance, a child laughs

and the sun sinks below the mountains.

–

Stiff with age, Wu Ning rises,

shoulders his pole and shuffles home.

No fish today, but it matters not,

for his heart is full.