down below all is quiet.
A soft drizzle of rain tries to
wash the ground,
attenuating the rising silent cries.
Crows hide from my walk afraid to
disturb my wandering eyes.
Turning to the right,
turning to the left,
I can't find the player
of the lamenting bugle.
It's there, I can hear it's strident
sound in the quietness
of this land....."
