after Wang Wei

The eager dogs
go bounding off
leading the way

Then circle back
to check on us
and urge us on

Once entering
the woods
the air grows still

Late sunlight
enters weakly
through the pines

Winding along
beside the trail
the little creek

Flows soundlessly
between its
mossy banks

Ancient madrones
their copper skin
smooth to the touch

Delight the eye
with fresh green
foliage

Our path
meanders up
the mountainside

I stop to rest
while Carroll strides
ahead

The dogs with lolling
tongues are panting
hard

And I too
feel impatient
to head back