Poetry

Himeji Castle

The first typhoon of September

took away the warmth and soon

there’ll be nothing to remember.

Rain smooths away stone, which forgets

last month’s hot sun now it’s wet.

Having climbed scores of stairs

to the topmost rooms we pause

and take in what is left to see:

paintings, muskets, swords; a haiku

book written by a feudal lord

now gone with all his retinue,

written away. Just this remains:

outside there is only air

and the air is full of rain.

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