(8 September 2010)
White bracts of bougainvillea drop
Gently to the lawn after the rain, and sadness
Fills me, unexpectedly. By now my love's three
Thousand miles away, she gazes rapt at the
Harsh sunlit deserts of the Silk Road
While I sit surrounded by ripening pomegranates
And prayer flags. But this pain springs from another
Separation, one not healed by such trivial arrangements
As a long-haul flight and the anticipated happy reunion.
Gently to the lawn after the rain, and sadness
Fills me, unexpectedly. By now my love's three
Thousand miles away, she gazes rapt at the
Harsh sunlit deserts of the Silk Road
While I sit surrounded by ripening pomegranates
And prayer flags. But this pain springs from another
Separation, one not healed by such trivial arrangements
As a long-haul flight and the anticipated happy reunion.
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