They all tried
the earthen vase,
the pale sunlight,
and even the blue on the wall.
They all tried to hold us together.
But we still manage to stand out,
to reach far,
to fall –
because it’s fun this way.
— Jujube

They all tried
the earthen vase,
the pale sunlight,
and even the blue on the wall.
They all tried to hold us together.
But we still manage to stand out,
to reach far,
to fall –
because it’s fun this way.
— Jujube

Stars, like water flowing from a jar,
sprinkled upon the night.
Like an artist from afar,
painting a perfect light.
A light veil of star light glows,
touching our wandering heart.
As we watch, nature shows,
the true beauty of sacred art!
— Rebecca Wiles

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking.
— John Masefield

The ancient stone stands tall and steep,
As surging waters dance below.
Hazy gold bleeds into mist,
where turquoise flourishes in salt-washed glow.
–jujube

问余何意栖碧山,笑而不答心自闲。
桃花流水窅然去,别有天地非人间。
You ask me why I make my home amid these green mountains;
I smile and make no reply, for my heart is free of care.
As peach blossoms flow downstream and are gone into the unknown,
I have a world apart that is not among men.
李白 Li Bai (701-762)

The stage is set.
Afternoon creeps in,
settling into the velvet,
waiting for the weight of the hour
to unravel,
petal by petal.
The patchwork of calico and cream
lies undisturbed in a slow, rhythmic rise and fall.
Dust, shadow, silence—
just soft things to curl into.
Nothing argues my nap here.
–jujube

Pigments of time
blots and blooms
into the canvas of dawn.
The tiered eaves of the ancient pagoda
sign off the night with the waking ray
Mist drifts apart
like a half-whispered morning greeting
forever deferred in the bleed of light.
–Jujube

Tangled vines,
like frayed harp-strings,
enact a wayward joy.
Worldlings have turned away,
hidden indoors to nurse their fire.
But the trunk bends
into a question mark
between frost and rust,
challenging all the assumptions of the season.
–Jujube

The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
— Robert Frost

Where the light fractures,
no shadow, past or present,
can hide you.
Time, pinned in space:
does it lift what you carry,
or anchor it forever?
Amid the silent roar,
going, yet never gone,
you stand,
trying to finish the sentence.
— Jujube
