I noticed a life-size pottery dog
made during the first century A.D.
because my wife and son were both born
in the Chinese Zodiac year of the dog.

I stopped to marvel at a Bronze Age
wine vessel cast in the shape of an ox.

A miniature ceramic lady of the court
strumming a pipa held my interest,
along with an ancient jade axe blade.

I gazed at scrolls of poetry written 
centuries ago in calligraphy –
though I am illiterate in the language
of their composition, I could well read 
the vitality in their makers’ hands; 

watercolor paintings of peony
and magnolia; a Ming dynasty
lute table whose simplicity belied
the craftsmanship that was responsible
for its joinery and ornamentation;

coins that predate the time of the Silk Road 
and were formed to look like hefty swords –
a reminder to debtors of the price 
to be paid for not returning what is owed.

But what held me transfixed beyond all else
was a Tajik flute carved from eagle bone 
displayed in a gallery of artwork
representing China’s minorities. 

Perhaps a young falconer fashioned it 
from the wing of his trusted hunting bird 
after it had died following many years
of dutiful service. Once completed, 

he put it to his mouth and played a tune
that echoed at sunset off the rocky 
outcrop where he stood, his lanky profile 
lit up from below by a glowing camp fire,
his tall shadow dancing on the mountainside.