View of Wanzhou

Out on the Yangtze, oars squeak in the oarlocks like crying monkeys. I stand up to see the view and feel as though I’m flying over the waves. Wind and waves crash on the shore. Sand from the shore blasts the flowers. Above, rocks are intertwined with clouds. I’m happy for a moment, forgetting how frail I am, how getting old is so depressing. At least for now I’m away from the war.