Finding peace in Kyoto. Wake early.
It’s what the French tourist in the packed restaurant advised me, over the hubbub of voices, the Australians
And the English, the Koreans and the Americans,
The sun rises early. Get up.
The empty bus and quiet streets greeted us,
Instead of teeming hordes of tourists in the temple,
Monks hurried past us, their slippers shuffling along
The polished wooden flooring.
Only the birds chattered in treetops,
Rocks carefully arranged in moss and raked gravel
Tell stories of a mother tiger and her cubs
Playing alongside a stream.
You will be glad you did.
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