W. S. MERWIN
one day I was looking
at infini te sllIall creatures
on th e bright sand
and th e next day is thi s
hea rin g after music
so thi s is th e way I see now
I take a shell in my hand
new to itself and to me
I feel th e thinn ess th e warmth and th e co ld
I li sten to th e water
which is th e story welling up
I remember th e colors and th eir li ves
everythin g takes me by surpri se
it is all awake in th e darkn ess
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N ow , a few poem s fro m 171t'
Vixell ,
partl y beca use th ey're all abo ut the
country n ear Puybrun, near th e villages where Czeslaw came to visit m e all
those years ago and where we rea lly first m et. First a poem call ed " N et"
whi ch is abo ut poaching, fi shing ill egally with a net, something th at takes m e
back quite a few years and , as m y fri e nds said, w hy sho uld we leave fi sh
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the river fo r the summer peopl e who come down fi'om Pari s. " N et."
We werc sitting al ong th e ri ver as th e day li ght
fa ded in hi gh summer too slowly to be foll owed
a pi nk haze gath erin g beyond th e ta ll poplars
over o n th e island and late swall ows snapping at gnats
fi'oll1 th e glassy reac hes above th e shall ows
where fC3 th ers of a gray mi st were 3ppearing
trout leapt like th e slapping of hands behind th e low voices
that went on talking of money with th e sound of rapids
runnin g thro ugh th em th e boots smell ed of fo rmer water
th e pil ed nets smell ed of th e deaths o f fi sh I will know now
how ni ght comes wi th eyes of its own to a river
and th en it was dark and we were see ing by river li ght
as th e old es t got up first takin g a coil of rope
down and di sappeared into thc sound th en we
went after him one by one stepping into th e cold pull
of th e current to feel th e round ston es slip farther
below us and we un coil ed th e nets with th e vo ices
sca rcely reac hing us over th e starli t surface
until we stood eac h alo ne hea ring only th e river
and held th e net whil e th e unsccn fi sh brushed pas t us
