(A furtively insensible glance beneath the foliage:
The dawningmist caresses the stones.)
Striding hidden through (the belonging pondweed)
Climbing over a rained creek (inside a soft misty rain)
Reading in raindrops on rose-hip; (my property)
I am clear. Clearer than wellwaters megin
I am clear on what is dead with this life.
Clear. Harder than Sorrow’s first tears
Clear. Cleaner than sustenance of real gladness
Clear.