We came down to the water late, when the mist had already decided on its color. My companion remarked that the mountain looked painted. I said nothing; the mountain had heard this before.
To the east the light had folded itself several times over, as cloth is folded and put away. A line of blue beads crossed the sky from somewhere to somewhere, on an errand of its own. Along the right bank the grasses had burst into fireworks and would not stop.
Four travelers sat on a spread blanket with their backs to all of it, eating.
the sky catches fire —
they pass the rice around
and do not turn
