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Transition

A temple bell at sunrise rustles the bamboo, Chopsticks chase rice round a wood bowl. A small boy bolts his breakfast And runs to school; Passing a shrine, he slows where A red gate rises from the water. Years pass, and still he wakes early To walk to school. He is a teacher. The children are noisy, and At the final bell they bow quickly And run to play. The older ones gather Where the McDonald's M in lacquer yellow Arches overhead. He kicks his feet through the leaves, Going home to TV And his wife cooking rice.