Clouds under heaven fly
Winds over meadow hie
Through kept field and forest wild
Rambles my motherless child.
Consider this marvel of Renaissance wit:
The Ideal City, by Lucian Laurana-
See how the canny master contrived in it
To lead the eye along the polished piazza
The shade of a bird
flew through my head
and like a needle
-You knew her?
-Yes, we had lunch several times, and then, later, at the club....