SHE STANDS ALONE
With benefit of sombre skies
that cast their tears
the trees reach down in cold embrace
and dancing to the breezes tune
they shed their dew as spangles fall
from traceries of tumbling green.
Where thorny briars extend upon
the hedgeless paths of pewter hue
the threads of dawn slip fitfully
in thoroughfares of shredded light
where coursing rain in times of flood
carved out the contours of their form.
And there no sounds of city life
within the spread of rising dawn
a compass mark, she stands alone
with April-cheeks and flowing hair
beside a swirling pewter path
beneath the vaults of tracery.