Stone Circle

Spring on the hills of mourning

sends forth a suncloud sheet of light.

The whole pyramid of fantastic sky

shouts an undated song

and rain shrouds from the western seas,

cromlech priests in frowning dress,

descend the limbs of outstretched

solitary trees to make some

will-o’-the-wisp way to an old abiding.

Spring shatters the opaque sky in a dazzlement:

the parachutist falls

beyond the slaughter stone.


December 1954