Forlorn

I

Sketch the line
Of a familiar tree
Against the sky

Writing in the cloud
Lines drift across
The setting sun

A solitary fragment
Single as the heron
Toils across the lake

The curlew calls
From soul to soul
Across the marsh

Again the shadow's
Fingers creep
Along the gable end
And stroke us into sleep.

JL May 9 15:53