Kerry Hardie

Three Poems

Reflection 
There’s a line of light on the lake through the sieving rain,
and swallows, skimming the face of the rushy meadow.
A grid of stone walls, loosening, falling away.

The terrain external mirrors the terrain internal.
Swallows, skimming the face of the rushy meadow.
Thoughts, breaking the line of the line of light.
 
 
 
 

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