Sheep daunted
Gracefully the wind hums,
Darkened clouds-
The warmth overbears us.
Trees, oh mighty-
They tremble in the haze,
A blue and green fury.

Stilling like-
Some dying machine, unmade.

Branches whip
The gentle lake turns, churns

Bell shaped lanterns flicker
Before the man shaped name

Feelings of wet cold grass
Like woven fleshy cod
I feel-
I feel-
Has the man left the room?
I think it might be June