Tuesday, June 16, 2015

The Wild


First sight of water through trees
glimpsed as a child
and the smell of the lake then
on the mountain
how long it has lasted
whole and unmoved and without words
the sound native to a great bell
never leaving it
paw in the air
ancient curlew not recorded
flying at night into
the age of night
sail sailing in the dark
so the tone of it
still crosses the years
through death after death
and the burnings the departures
the absences
carrying its own
song inside it
of bright water

—W. S. Merwin


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