That's the kind of man that we all are indebted to
and don't even know it, you know that?
And I think that's--
that-- I think voices and figures like that--
can you imagine them not being part of the natural world?
That's what they are.
One more poem, which is for you to keep in your mind
while I'm reading--
While we're talking about the rest of the things.
"The Duck."
The first time that I was allowed
to take out the white canoe because the lake
was so still in the evening, I slipped out
on the long sky of midsummer across the light
coming through the overturned dark trees.
I saw the duck catching the colors of fire
as she moved over the bright glass,
and I glided after until she dove.
And I followed with the white canoe.
And look what I find long afterwards,
the world of the living.