Rain on banana leaves

I built a shed on a hill 
about the size of Thoreau’s. 

Nearby, I planted a grove 
of banana trees, lady’s fingers. 

When they’re grown 
and the broken heart of Autumn 

brings the heavy rains, 
I’ll shelter inside my shed

and listen for the patter 
on banana leaves. 

I make a promise, Chu Shu, 
to think of you then

and share together 
our ten thousand pains.  


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