ON LOOKING INTO THE WELL


I looked into the well, the deep well
I had sought, and there nothing found.
Neither water, nor bottom mud. No
little frog-eyes staring, No sound.
Nothing, deep and mysterious. No
rustling, no moiling, no smell.
Nothing still and dark and warm.
“Nothing here,” said I, “Nothing still and dark.”
But, still, I peered into the dark,
And, still, the dark peered back —
Stillness warm and light and real
Flooded me and soaked my heart.

I looked into that well, the deep well,
I had sought and there stillness found.


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This is a companion piece to “A Dry Land in a Dry Month.” written later in that same school year.