Lying on the old plank dock naked
In the middle of a weekday or gliding
Through the cold green water of the bay,
Body surprised to be so unencumbered,
Self savored the momentary sense
Of triumph, as if decisions had had anything
To do with this near miracle. To be alive
And without pain, and feeling the world
As an intimate, individual pleasure,
The mountains' indifference a virtue,
Showing no awareness of the perils
Facing the little fish in the lake below them:
This was not an abeyance; it was the good
Part of the continuous change that was
Everything, and it was change itself in going.
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