Scene in the Night Market

Lonely,

I take gentle steps into the night;
the ladies hear the little dog
and up their white flags go
as they bound away.

The Spirit Folk enjoy a good nights’ marketing;
the hawkers chant their selling songs
while their wares shine,
transcending expectation.

But human expectations are always exceeded
or just plain blown out of the water
at the Night Market …
thought they're not really welcome here.

I sing the realignment songs,
remind the disharmonious that the servants
of Sagami-san will not be as kind as
I tend to be if they choose to call

shenanigans.

The noodle shop beneath the ancient apple tree
sends delicious scents into the neighborhood,
where none of the humans are cooking spicy noodles
at human reckoned 3 a.m.

The smoke shop sits near the rhododendron bush
and shares a stall with the scholars’ supplies shop
run by the Smoke Shop Owner’s younger sibling.

The combination of various herb smokes and the scent
of carbon black ink ground and liquified on inkstones
infused with enchantments bring my heart back home …

I always want to start another bookbinding project
when I smell the inks and papers.  Now to find
some flat and heavy stones for my press…