GOING TO VISIT TAI-T’IEN MOUNTAIN’S MASTER OF THE WAY WITHOUT FINDING HIM

A dog barks among the sounds of water.
Dew stains peach blossoms. In forests,

I sight a few deer, then at the creek,
hear nothing of midday temple bells.

Wild bamboo parts blue haze. A stream
hangs in flight beneath emerald peaks.

No one knows where you’ve gone. Still,
for rest, I’ve found two or three pines.