by Sean Prentiss
After Four Years in the City
T’ao Ch’ien writes, A tethered bird longs for its forest, A pond fish its deep waters.
Reading Master Tao, I now understand This four year chest-knot—the nearest Wilderness an hour of suburban commute.
I dream of selling that house, giving away Bags of goods, furniture, saying goodbye To friends and city noise.
Returning to quiet mountains, I’ll recite, The words of Master T’ao Back again: after so long in that trap.
After Four Years Working in the City
I wake come morning and look out the window At the only bit of nature here, an old oak
That in the highest wind beats against This house. It’s all futile.
The traffic of Fulton, a well-worn Road, hums. And it’s still all futile.
As a car horn wails, I read The distant words of T’ao Ch’ien,
I dream of my life among mountains and lakes. Through those words, I learn that this part
Of the long journey is only temporary.
T’ao Ch’ien Again Convinces Me to Quit My Job
Sarah, is it time again to quit Our jobs, forsake our accounts? We each understand the lure Of long trails weaving mountain Passes high and glittered with Snow. Shall we walk again, This time together?
Master T’ao is correct: All this brings back such joy I forget Glittering careers. I long for more and more of Nothing, Sarah, but time. |