Snow

It snowed on New Year’s Eve but in the morning it was clear, so I could finally leave Weizhou. The cold blew away my horse’s dream and cleared my head from all the wine I drank the night before. Green onion flowered in the morning light. I got off my horse to drink in a field. Wind blew the scapes in circles. This was when snowflakes began to fly again. Snow stuck to my horse’s mane so it seemed that I rode a white phoenix. Three years of drought had driven the poor off the land to live in shacks on the village outskirts. Old farmers had nothing to eat except the tears they shed in their fields. Although the snow was late, it let them plant spring wheat and anticipate full stomachs. Although it made my journey hard, a good year begins with snow and frost. So I wouldn’t dare to complain about it.