In a place where pale pink
blossoms fall like rain.
Land softly on the heads
of quiet people.
Where Cherry Blossoms
are sacred,
each petal a bridge
between heaven and earth.
Where ancient stone bridges
cross ponds of Lotus flowers.
He teaches English there,
as he learns to quiet
his own spirit.
Joyce Chelmo
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-orient/
