Sunlight from the edge of time
climbs wrinkled rocks
and creeps, full-knowing
into this garden’s rhyme
The large still pools reflect,
the eyes esteem
the willow trees upon the water’ edge
whose shadows with the sunlight’s
glitter intersect
A labyrinth form of sea and sand
and stone and trees
(the latter grown, the rest all made)
where man, long gone, had laid his hand
And now, though hubris (inevitably) set a king aside
some sand still rises like a cone
and there upon a sunlit sea of wood and stone
the age-old character of the plan abides.