Moon falls behind hills
solitary shadows
autumn wind
silence
bits of stars
vague and remote
walking amongst
ancient trees
in a courtyard
in the depths
of a temple
the flicker of lamps
the saffron of robes
the sound of wooden fish
the sound of Namo Amitabha is
peace
quiet like a flower, a grass
a wind, a rain
a sand, a stone
a dream, a season.