tip pinions spread
strong sweep of wave cloud
carved by the wind
drawn on a burst of dying light
the ranging run of sunset blue gold sky
fading through lemon green
purple and brown down to our dusty trail
through grey green graveyard trees
fields lit by golden stacks
then fixed dark triangle of road
a line of sparks of which ourselves are one
and to the south
a fresh new crescent moon
(c) Richard Lawson
France 2001
France 2001
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