… shape of those bent shoulders
and her entire body
speaks of resignation
as this lady sweeps leaves away
under a weeping tree.
Tourists by the hundred
pass, staring at faded buildings
and weathered sculptures
of wood and stone.
She is breathing today
the same air as they,
as she sweeps leaves away …
Holy holy holy her autumn breath,
holy her work beneath the trees,
holy her head more than temple ceilings,
holy her arms more than winding dragons,
holier her face than
the warrior's metallic stare..
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