The Thatched Cottage In Summer's Fading Light Poem by William He

The Thatched Cottage in Summer's Fading Light

Swallows stretch their wings.
The air is dense with summer.
Scenes unfold in layered hues.
Dusk slips through the doorway,
A figure lingers in the hush,
Beside this hut, beneath a slate-toned sky.
Bamboo leans in wild embrace,
Clasping the walls once more.
Fireflies spark in poetic rhythm—cicadas sing.
Another drink of memory.
A shadow stirs beyond the thicket,
Where deepest dreams and echoes dwell.

The quiet voice of conscience speaks,
Wandering tender paths,
Through the tangled truths of life.
This straw-roofed refuge stands,
Where night's soft curtains fall.
He retreats, unseen, into the still.
To hold the lotus in a painted breath,
His thoughts drift like idle boats,
Delicate, wounded, full of ache.
Worn by twilight's hush,
They fold into sadness,
Injecting into shallow and pulsing stream.