Robert Bly

Where We Must Look for Help

The dove returns; it found no resting place;
It was in flight all night above the shaken seas. 
Beneath Ark eaves
The dove shall magnify the tiger’s bed;
Give the dove peace.
The split-tail swallows leave the sill at dawn; 
At dusk blue swallows shall return.
On the third day the crow shall fly;
The crow, the crow, the spider-colored crow, 
The crow shall find new mud to walk upon.