Outside

Stones I will see you
Banging the gongs and the slow rat-tat
Quivering off into whispers'
Harp mutters slowly like the wind
In the grass and the gonging bangs
Still because these leafy matters crash
On the fortress on the hill.

What is behind the door or a gate
With its dragons' lips
Curled like the fire whose curs
Do duty on either side
And the snakes run wide of their copper
Hinge, angering the wind?

In the still, blue sky whose dome is the earth
Only the fortress is uncontained as it contains
Just the dark, taking shape like a shadow
That speaks with the grass and the ground.