Escaping from the new sun, the river

is over-flowed, moisturizing pebbles.

The reign of blue and shadows is 

descending. Hymns heard from the

coolness of the wind, complying.

Like clouds cringe on the post-rain sky,

the solution to a problem is a problem;

the truth behind a lie is another lie. 

The show is an excuse for a party;

the party is an excuse for talking;

talking is an excuse for neglect and 

loneliness.

They would be back.

What went away is sweat.

What is left are dry and weary eyes.

John Cai