Poplars stoop over the lake.
A random breeze mocks
the water into small waves.
Sleeping ducks extract beaks
from backs and exhale in disgust.
A twitch of swallows is pitched
off a poplar and scatters like glitter
over the water. The water calms
to hold a cup of sun on its saucer.
The poplar looks morose now
his friends have left: frustration,
resignation. Laying down his sack,
the woodcutter sets to work. A branch
falls into the water. The sun disappears.
Gordon Mason, Scotland and Spain