At one end of the valley, far
in the distance, a waterfall pours off the top of a ridge,
falling nearly halfway to the bottom before losing itself in the
Dozens of water buffalo graze near the streams and ponds.
The fog and clouds roll and tumble and slide up and down the
mountains all day long…never
remaining stationary for more than an hour.
Suddenly half of the entire valley is invisible in misty
an hour later only little puffs float among the hills.
Over there, a long skinny finger of fog flows down
a narrow valley, finally wrapping around one of the hamlets and then
curling itself into a ball and floating away.
Copyright 2007 © Loyd Little