What Distance Taught Us
The cherries shed their snow as years before,
And summer stars still tumble through the lake,
While autumn-gold chrysanthemums awake,
And winter plums bloom white along the shore.
The seasons keep their faith — but we who swore
To meet beneath each moon have let time break
What distance slowly taught us to forsake:
The same four views, two facing seats, one pour.
“Spring remembered every petal, but forgot who I was waiting for.”
