Dayun temple: 4

A child draws water from the well. He handles the bucket with ease, sprinkles water without getting anything wet, and sweeps the courtyard as though it were never dusty. Bright clouds shine on the pavilion; mist blows through high windows. The walk is lined with flowers so that it’s hard to get past them. Outside, the world’s a muddy mess. I should have retired when times were good. Here at the temple I can say what I feel, but outside it seems I’ll need to mind my words. Many obligations have weighed me down, so it’s been good to get some rest here. Maybe I’ve learned, like Master Zan, to keep my composure when dogs nip at my heels.