Charles Belbin

Banyan Lake Teahouse, Guilin

Light raindrops
drop, shimmering on Banyan Lake.
Twenty years, we’re here again.
Only a small addition
to the banyan’s eight hundred years
but now my beard is gray.
Guo Mo-rou’s calligraphy
is still above South Gate
although attrition has taken
its toll on the ideals he cherished.
The old stone wall, the rich greenery
pouring over it.  Someone
starts playing a zheng and 
the notes are like raindrops
on the water, gently landing
and spreading in small circles.
Encompassed in the seasons’
comings and goings we still
care for each other through
all the ups and downs and
raft on the floating days.
A weeping willow on the opposite
shore reaches down past
the rocks almost to the water.
Next to it a yang willow
is reflected in the water.
A pomegranate with a few
red flowers also shimmers in the
cloud drifting sky filled lake.
The days and their reflections
go by on the flowing water.