Looking For Yung, The Recluse Master

Emerald peaks polish heaven.  I wander,
sweeping clouds away, forgetting years,

looking for the ancient Way.  Resting
against a tree, I listen to streamwater,

black ox dozing among warm blossoms,
white crane asleep in towering pines.

A voice calls through river-tinted dusk,
but I’ve descended into cool mist alone.