A voluptuous ease, my legs
drift first into slumber.
I wake with thoughts
of lost direction, of unresolved

Gorges and cliffs,
and far-tumbling ranges
Drawn here in the late clouds.
Beneath run the calm beaten stone
and plane trees in seed.

Two women stand framed
between a dog on a red lead
and sun on wrought iron. Caged

Suzanne Aigrain, 2003