Uga Gorge

I suddenly wake up and write.

I remember the steep mountains.

The wind blows from the mountain.

And waves on the surface of the pond.

I kick my way through the mountains of memory.

A mountain that lives in my heart

I touch a few waterfalls.

And poisonous plants growing in the shade.

On the pale red rhododendrons

A drop of silver is rhetoric.

I want to watch the birds in the shade

Until the day I die.

I turn to the left and dodge the people.

I run up the path, hesitating for a moment.

There is a path that no man has trod before.

I see the gentle white snow.

p.s. The photos were taken on April 17, 2022.