First sight of water through trees
glimpsed as a child
and the smell of the lake then
on the mountain

how long it has lasted
whole and unmoved and without words
the sound native to a great bell
never leaving it

paw in the air
guide
ancient curlew not recorded
flying at night into
the age of night
sail sailing in the dark

so the tone of it
still crosses the years
through death after death
and the burnings the departures
the absences
carrying its own
song inside it

of bright water