Ceasefire

Ceasefire

When the lake is pewter, like today, 
reflecting leafless trees, 
russet, bracken hills, 
and a motionless cloud, 
we look to the west, 
from where the weather comes, 

where winds will gather again 
to rain in sheets incessantly 
and drive wave after wave 
to batter and wrench the meadow’s edge, 
uproot these leaning willows or 
surround and cut them off from shore.