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" Pine trees rise through cloud
soar up into the blue skies,
bush clover spangled with dewdrops
sways in the autumn breeze;
As I dip cold, pure water
at the edge of the stream,
a solitary white crane
comes lolloping my way. "
―
Baisao
,
The Old Tea Seller: Life and Zen Poetry in 18th Century Kyoto
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her speech
a smug look
blotches
more comfort
my first marriage
all the small things
the routes
lodgings
Prue
boars