Wings beat concentric circles upon
the dark surface of the Woodland pool.
Circles reaching outward, ever outward.
The struggle, futile against the elements,
...
Written by Helen Buemi at a time
when her health was discouraging.
I'm falling,
...
The Woodland Pool
Wings beat concentric circles upon
the dark surface of the Woodland pool.
Circles reaching outward, ever outward.
The struggle, futile against the elements,
beyond his power of understanding.
Death stills the butterfly's wings.
The pool restored to calm, the trees
reflect upon its dark surface