On the remoted rocky cliff, a Buddhist
Hermitage stands, lonesomely
Amidst the silence, devoid of people,
The wind-sound shatters the tranquility.
Where has Buddhist head-monk gone?
The door was closed, still.
Unswept, the snow on the high steps linger
Pure and undisturbed not trill.
(Feb., 5th, 2024, Kinsley Lee)