This poem is called, "Reflection of a Young Woman by a Lake".
Disease was spreading on the lawn.
In the house she occupied she was growing up
to find the snails and slugs sucking on the leaves;
important to their survival was the death of what they loved.
And how, in the mornings chill, it reminded her of a man
she saw once floating in the lake,
not dead but passive in his acceptance
of where the water took him.
She watched him for hours, not desiring him
but what he desired, that restfullness
in motion, the ability to take in whatever sun there was.
Then he passed from her sight, she
was left with an image of hopelessness,
how she'd have to move from what she loved, continuously,
in and out of sight of others who
passed their time with her--
or gave the passing chance to leave this world she lingered
in, that luxury of leisure which made thoughts of future loss
so wrong to think about, so hard to ignore.