You And I Poem by Birgit Bunzel Linder

I left at dusk to return to my home, my ears soon chilled,
winter has arrived.
In the bamboo grove, past the sleepy ponds,
a relentless cold breaks in.
I creak across at the small wooden bridge,
while a thousand leaves sail the mist.
A lonely flurry settles on the tip of a barren gingko branch,
while shadowy air sheds faint frost.
The cold straw of birds' nests is deserted and gray,
its touch to my hand as silent and cold as my mother's grave.
Suddenly fairies susurrate of death and rebirth,
and I strain to hear my fate.
Soon they are silenced by the cries of wild geese from the Old Summer Palace.
Snowflakes assemble in my heart,
while uncanny echoes hush through powdered coppice,
piercing and withered like my father's remains.
Crows bicker and screech.
A blood red sun sets into spider's lacework.
The warmth of summer is long gone,
in a land as far away as passion.
Alone and shivering, but not unfeeling,
I long for a home on this strange winter's day.
My supplication lingers frozen in midair.
A hazy half-wit moon lights the path to Scholars Abode.
I rush upstairs, open the door.
Warmth welcomes me, blushes my icy cheeks.
You smile while you eat your Frosted Flakes.
"How was your day? Did you get much done? "
I was bewildered and far, far away.
Obscure things spoke to me of a place I once called home…..
"Where have you been, it's only seven? " you say
as you crunch the flakes between your snow white teeth.