Morning Travel
Rising early
to begin the journey;
not a sound
from the chickens next door.
Beneath the lamp,
I part from the innkeeper;
on the road, my skinny horse
moves through the dark.
Slipping on freshly
hoarfrosted stones,
threading through woods,
we scare up birds roosting.
Behind us, a bell
tolls in far mountains;
the colors of daybreak
gradually clear.
Chia Tao
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