A weekday morning of Madame Ling

 

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After sending my son to school,Madame Ling prepared a coffee.
Sinking into the sofa in the living room with her favorite cup.
A rich moment in the day.

Looking out to the window,
the sky is blue,
air is clear,
and also, still 10 o’clock.

30 minutes later,
she was climbing up the mountain behind her house.

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***
“Why haven’t you written poems about autumn ?”
Madame Ling asks me under the lit yellow and red leaves in a night garden.
“Because I love summer, I love sunshine. Also, I’m always busy in autumn”
I replied her. Her son is a few meters ahead of us, posing for her mother releasing the camera shutter.
“But look! Autumn is also beautiful. It’s my favorite season”
She continues to talk about how she passed her time that morning.

I imagined,
a lucid sky and clouds,
yellow gingko leaves contrasted with them,
and the fresh air she breathed at the top of the mountain.

Yes, it’s true.
Autumn is beautiful.
The world is illuminated with flooded tender sunshine.
We often forget something simple and essential,
because of noises of life.

A pleasant morning invited Madame Ling to outside,
and that called me back a scene I had lacked.
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