The Kite Wind blows from China
sweeps the surface of the river
with shards of broken light
and make it quiver.
The river has eaten three quarters
of the land we think we own
and though our claim is clearly conventional,
and what the river did is unintentional,
the family do need somewhere as a home.
Toyota’s trucks have brought us
a heap of concrete posts,
one hundred and ninety five
each thirty foot in length,
to test our will against the river’s strength.
The Chinese wind’s invasion
brings the Cold Season back once more.
To mark this auspicious occasion,
the thermometer shows ninety-four.