Wilderness:
Written on Water
C. J. Driver


The sheen of dying wind
Across the lake —
The darkling light
As light delights the air
(The language knows so much beyond oneself)

The web of weaving wind
Across the lake —
The water light
Of silver shining air
(The language knows so much beyond oneself)

We think of something lost
In writing down
The flux of time:
But what completes our thought?
(The language knows so much beyond oneself)

The thread of meaning lost
In noting down
That fleeting time:
Precise the moment caught
(The language knows so much beyond oneself)