Landscape

September evening. The somber calls of the herdsmen float

across the dimming village. Molten metal sparks in the blacksmith’s.

A massive horse rears darkly back. To the fervor of its blazing nostrils

the hyacinth curls of the servant girl cling.

At the edge of the woods a faint cry stiffens the deer’s back,

and the yellow flowers of autumn

bend wordlessly over the pond’s blue countenance.

The tree was consumed in red flame. Up flutter the dark faces of bats.