The river flows, calm,
Feeding the bay with pale dreams,
Transcending mere time.
So the world-weary inn guest,
Sneaking out to see,
Sunrise between her smoke,
Blue-gray on red sky,
Sees the same gentle vision,
As the old soldier,
Red-lacquered and defeated,
Dreaming of a peace,
If not of body, then mind.
Prompt: There is a natural hot springs inn along the river that flows through a village. It was said to have been founded by a samurai of the Taira, who recovered there after surviving the Battle of Tonamiyama. I think about it, now and again.
Discarded Recollections 