Cloud over Anfalm

A cloud floats over Anfalm.
Below lie cornfields with stalks growing tall,
electric wires run around the field,
a cow appears in the middle,
moos loudly and disappears.
I feel the warmth of summer in this distant land,
where all I can do is look and feel
the raspberries’ red, saccharin juice
dripping over the electric fence—a little spark—
a fly hits the fence and dies
and though it is mine,
my town, my eye,
somehow I can’t bring it back from death.