An almost haiku-like sonnet from the Dutch poet Dèr Mouw

Faint lies the willow’s shadow on the meadow;

into the pond plops, light-green arc, a frog;

above the reeds, blue sparkling flicks and rocks,

each time the light wind makes their pennants billow.

In grass where willows line the river-arm

a light-haired lad plays marble games intently;

an orchard rattle to scare birds off sends the

Sunday silence fleeing across the farm.

Whenever the dry rrr takes a brief pause,

the silence from far off seems to contract

and suddenly be strangely, densely packed:

on empty sand by bolted stable doors,

in garden patch, in orchard, low and high,

a questioning and wondering seem to lie.