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04/07/2002 Entry: "Robert Bly's Sunset at a Lake"
"The sun is sinking. Here on the pre-haunted
bank, the mosquitoes fly around drowsily, and
moss stands out as if it wanted to speak. Calm
falls onto the lake, which now seems heavier and
inhospitable. Far out, rafts of ducks drift like
closed eyes, and a thin line of silver caused by
something invisible slowly moves toward the shore
in the viscous darkness under the southern bank.
Only a few birds, the troubled ones, speak to
the darkening roof of earth; small weeds stand
abandoned, the clay is sending her gifts
back to the center of the earth."-Robert Bly, 1962.
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