in the wind –

in time there will be all things present

and past in your eyes subsuming misery

with emboldened arms -- these

the sincere longings of a night

forgiven but not forgotten

as we arc our slim bodies into the water

with hardly a splash submerged there

while our hearts beat fast and driven

with desire and circumstance -- Who

are the grey beings there in the mist, those

who shelter hope in a stern embrace

waiting for us in shallow water?

(We have given in

to giving in, we have surrendered

to the Erlking

who steals our children, his

blessed daughters calling us

through the wood, a dance of

death yawning open in the caves

before us) -- "Come

play with me, my darling boy, we

have

ice and frost for you, a cool

house of dark leaves

where you can hang

your tired head" --

How have we come this way, stranded

by the brook, our hands

held out to distant fathers

in the fields?

The Erlking knows us, follows

with calm precision and

gentle step -- he will bring us in

and through

the hail to his home

of pure imagination -- it is there

we will die to be

reborn

in exhalation

of a sudden breath --