A Veil
Smooth, butter fields, line the edges of the mountains,
With speckles; grass a fine hazing upon the pristine
Untouched land yonder; a land beautiful, divine.
The mountains, browned, flat upward like a wood slab,
Some mahogany edifice, lipped at the top, a stand
On which the words of life are written.
A veil, clouds, thin, shrouding the fields,
And the man looks down upon her face, smiling.
It begins to rain, and the rain smatters the veil gray.
