Broken clouds

Staying Overnight at Xiaosha Stream

Trees, laced in mountain mist,
patch broken clouds;
the wind scatters a rainstorm of fragrant petals.
The green willows, it is said, are without feeling-
why then do they try so hard to touch the traveller
with their catkins?

Yang Wanli
Tr. Jonathan Chaves

I'm finding these zen poems quite soothing and peaceful, but I don't know what the hell they mean.

But sometimes it seems quite appropriate just to sit and read them.

They make a pleasant diversion inbetween painting commissons and stitching little owl pinnies for gracia & louise