NIGHT FLIGHT
As gentle as a gentle animal
Or liquid lifting of a fountain's plume She was all through that day : I think that all Gentleness wanders right back to the womb, And is umbilical; she was calm and mild As a grave painted mother with her child.
I asked her how this was; and what she told Me was simplicity itself, yet deep
It went, and sure. Last night she chanced to mould The work of dreaming to the work of sleep : Out of sleep's mist her thought had burst up clear And bold as ocean-bird from night-dark mere : Encountering such great goading from a wish
It like a gannet scythed into its sea In one pure smooth swoop ; dredged up a bright fish,
A sea-drenched fish of such fertility
It showered the moorland with a watery shower
Of gold that made all seed burst back in flower.
JOHN HOLLOWAY
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