Our Blue Mountain cabin
Perches atop stilts on the canyon wall,
A cross-beamed wooden palace
Where stream-music sings
Morning, day, evening, night,
Attuning me with Han-shan,
Po Chui, Wang Wei, Li Po, Ikkyu. . .
How far to travel, simply to
Reach this herenow center
Where beloved solitude
Gives rise to spreading wings,
Spiraling dreamsongs. . .