On Hemlock Street

I see broad shoulders,
a silver head,
and I think: John!
And I think: dead.

Ursula K. Le Guin


Why is it I want to cry?
Crow, crow, tell me.

There is a shadow passing by.
The willows call me.

Why would an old woman weep?
Willow, tell me, willow.

Crows went flying through my sleep.
I cry and follow.

Ursula K. Le Guin