Bright sky. The sycamore rising from its center of the field still leafless where hawks keep watch above the charcoal burn above stubby plum trees winter grass oaks half-circle, one might say bow --- beyond the fence, the neighbor's sheep and goats. roosters flap up to the fencepost to crow (what I once thought was the creak of a water pump) is this a development? the beehive pulled out of the shed discarded From this house, from the "parochial" body in darkness the screech owl foretells quakes, "2.8" a being treads on the roof or underground Lines from my bookshelf: All the world's light fits inside an eye. The rooster crows and his song lasts longer than his wings. ---Federico Garcia Lorca, "Nocturne of Empty Space," Poeta en Nueva York, p. 107.