On a cloudy Autumn day rain is the weather.
A blossom petal on the wet streets of Gion.
The soothing sounds of Koto in the theater.
A walking Geisha on the wet streets of Gion.

A soft kiss by the wind blows the petal away,
All elegantly through the wet streets of Gion.
The Geisha sings a song to cheer up this sad day,
Sings elegantly through the wet streets of Gion.

The moon-faces walk by as the rain falls,
Noticed by every eye as the rain falls.

Strangers greet the flowers of art and silk,
Silence is their reply as the rain falls.

Tea houses and lanterns light up the streets,
While blossom petals fly as the rain falls.

Stillness is the answer to my question,
No voice, no haw nor sigh as the rain falls.

Gihon remains longing to their reply,
Will they answer his 'why' as the rain falls?

Awake to a slowly beating drum
morning meditation drifting up the hill
in the garden, tiny birds add sweet highs
tuneless ravens, the bass undertone
trees whisper ancient lyrics
on the passing breeze.

We stroll the Path of Philosophy
through massive wooden gates
into carefully sculpted gardens
exploring the endless number
of temples dotting Kyoto
each more lovely than the last.

Quiet Nanzen-Ji
is where I feel the most
following worship worn
steps to a cave-shrine
heady with wet
and incense

we are purified
by waterfall spray
before returning
the way we came
voices hushed
buoyed by eternity’s hand.

The hotel lobby is filled
with crimson and saffron
glistening heads and broad smiles
from monks gathered there
we bow to each other and are one
may it never be forgotten

revelers arrive by busload
for hanami, cherry blossom viewing
beneath a revered tree
decked out in pink splendor  
lit from below to radiate
surreal, internal light

we sample Kobe yakitori
soba and corn
grilled over open flame
as we flow
through the smiling
celebratory crowd

we savor
what is transitory
as sparks
and blossoms whirl
settling on
our hair and skin.

Lying together in
the calm of night
eyes losing focus,
drifting towards
sleep, there was
always one more
thought to speak,
one more kiss to
give. Black hair
shone like ravens'
wings on silken
pillows. At dawn,
I would lead my
army into battle,
never to return.

Now, you turn
your face to smile
at a new love,
holding a black
umbrella over her
pretty blond head.

When we met,
our souls saw
who we were  
to one another.

But that was then,
my love.