Magnolia trees float out their flowers,
Vast, soft, upon the rubbish heap.
The grandfather sits still for hours:
His lap-held grandson is asleep.
Above him plane trees fan the sky.
Nearby, a man in muted dance
Does t’ai-qu-quan. A butterfly
Flies whitely past his easy trance.
A magpie flaps back to its pine.
A sparrow dust-rolls, fluffs, and cheeps.
The humans rest in a design:
One writes, one thinks, one moves, one sleeps.
The leaves trace out the stenciled stone,
And each is in his dream alone.