A grey horizon and river
Under a dark bridge
but the light of life sparkles
In two places, like magic
No time for my camera
As the bus pulls away
At the cafe
The words of a monk
The sound of a piano, and a soft, melodious and melancholy voice
Memories of my father, back home
A confluence making a mallet
To ring a bell inside me
Sending a tone to my mind, my heart
Accusing and calling to my feet
