Night covers the pond with its wing. <br />Under the ringed moon I can make out <br />your face swimming among minnows and the small <br />echoing stars. In the night air <br />the surface of the pond is metal. <br /> <br />Within, your eyes are open. They contain <br />a memory I recognize, as though <br />we had been children together. Our ponies <br />grazed on the hill, they were gray <br />with white markings. Now they graze <br />with the dead who wait <br />like children under their granite breastplates, <br />lucid and helpless: <br /> <br />The hills are far away. They rise up <br />blacker than childhood. <br />What do you think of, lying so quietly <br />by the water? When you look that way I want <br />to touch you, but do not, seeing <br />as in another life we were of the same blood.<br /><br />Louise Glück<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-pond-3/
