Poem — Dinah Hawken

The Lake

Sometimes the lovely land
comes gently to water

sometimes it falls.

The cliff is thrilling

rising like a regiment
or a choir of angels
out of the lake

but no‑one has power
over water, since water being fluent
unintentionally wins.

Dinah Hawken

Tagged with: ,
Posted in Poem
Search the archive
Search by category