Spring brings such sorrows
over what can’t be renewed –
what’s dissolved in mist
White mists, so puzzling,
so beautiful – they hold all
I have lost, squandered
White mists, delicate
as profiles of those I’ve loved,
like them, never still
White mists take the shapes
of white peony blossoms
and drop white petals
White mists – no mercy,
don’t care who I see, who I
spread my arms to hug
White mists wet the grass
as spring sun rises to burn
away yesterday