Jeanine Walker

First Evening,
On a Lake

A seagull flies
thin as a pencil, drawing
a long line across the sky.

I place my left hand
on one side and my right on the other.
For a full minute there is nothing
in the sky but the line and my two hands.

Then the seagull flies back
across the sky, taking his line
with him.

Now nothing separates my one hand
from the other.