FOR THEODORE ROETHKE
1908-1963
All night you wallowed through my sleep,
then in the morning you were lost
in the Maine sky--close, cold and gray,
smoke and smoke-colored cloud.
Sheeplike, unsociable reptilian, two
hell-divers splattered squawking on the water,
loons devolving to a monochrome.
You honored nature,
helpless, elemental creature.
The black stump of your hand
just touched the waters under the earth,
and left them quickened with your name. . . .
Now, you honor the mother.
Omnipresent,
she made you non-existent,
the ocean's anchor, our high tide.
Robert Lowell
