THE WHOLE OX
The Chinese hills are rounded, with rocks obscuring cliffs,
where it would seem no one would dare go - except perhaps
the thin eccentric, painting with brush the delicate scene.
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He sits, removed and solitary. To meditate upon the sky,
or stare down varied vistas, would seem to be his wisdom.
An occasional pithy comment utters forth.
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'We are like the ever-present bumble-bee.
Our flight is in the air, while, on our
grounded feet, sweet nectar sticks us here.'
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