At Blackwater Pond the tossed waters have settled <br />after a night of rain. <br />I dip my cupped hands. I drink <br />a long time. It tastes <br />like stone, leaves, fire. It falls cold <br />into my body, waking the bones. I hear them <br />deep inside me, whispering <br />oh what is that beautiful thing <br />that just happened?<br /><br />Mary Oliver<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/at-blackwater-pond/
