The Tall White Lily

All night
I float
in the shallow ponds
while the moon wanders

burning,
bone white,
among the milky stems.
Once

I saw her hand reach
to touch the muskrat's
small sleek head
and it was lovely, oh,

I don't want to argue anymore
about all the things
I thought I could not
live without!  Soon

the muskrat
will glide with another
into their castle
of weeds, morning

will rise from the east
tangled and brazen,
and before that
difficult

and beautiful
hurricane of light
I want to flow out
across the mother

of all waters,
I want to lose myself
on the black
and silky currents,

yawning,
gathering
the tall lilies
of sleep.




White Night by Mary Oliver