Over my head, I see the bronze butterfly, br Asleep on the black trunk, br blowing like a leaf in green shadow. br Down the ravine behind the empty house, br The cowbells follow one another br Into the distances of the afternoon. br To my right, br In a field of sunlight between two pines, br The droppings of last year's horses br Blaze up into golden stones. br I lean back, as the evening darkens and comes on. br A chicken hawk floats over, looking for home. br I have wasted my life.