Netting the Sky

Familiar shapes net my sky,
The walls and all their friends
That are silent where it ends
And glowing where it seams.

When the hazy trickle
Of the heavy heavens slows,
They are the fishers, feasters
To the long summer evening.

A piece of stream falls to me,
Waving and trapped in the thick glass,
The capsule that always will be;
Have me searching, looking to
Where the sky is let go.