Cirrus minor
In a churchyard by a river
Lazing in the hazy midday
Laughing in the grasses and the graves
Yellow bird you are not long in singing
And in flying up and laughing and in leaving
Willow weeping in the water
Waving to the river daughters
Swaying in the ripples and the reeds
On a trip to cirrus minor
Saw a crater in the sun
A thousand miles of moonlight later
J.S: Death is the solution to all problems. No man = No problem.