A Row of Hills

by John Curl

a row of hills, blue in the evening mist
a few geese pecking at grass
a woman, hands calloused from hard work,
bends and picks up
a huge fire raging at the hospital
a deep crater blown out of one corner
a stray bomb between a school and a farmhouse
plunging down from the roof to the first floor
as firetrucks converged on
the smoking residential district
damaging railways and watermellons
watermains shooting like geysers
a small globe of earth placed carefully
upside down on a gallows
devoured by birds
flashes of catastrophes at sea
poisoned by the magician's wand
we seem to be imprisoned in some cage
these bleak winter days
lilac hues in the evening sky
like a field of young tomatoes, inexpressibly pure
dew appears in the grass
a sow with a litter of sucklings
in the twilight of that deep shadowy elm
how much light there is in darkness!