Reflection

There's a line of light on the lake through the sieving rain,
and swallows, skimming the face of the rushy meadow,
the grid of the walls is loosening and falling away,
scrawny cows tread routes though the boggy ground.

The terrain external
                                 mirrors the terrain internal.

There's a line of light on the lake through the sieving rain,
and swallows, skimming the face of the rushy meadow—