The Loons

We have been here forever.
                The dream
stops.   Or the words
that once were emergencies
gathering the mind
to a fine attention
pass from attention.

Relief. The anxious searching.
Where have they gone—
old words
taking us with them.

Arise and are gone,
the many white moons
scattered on the ripples—
    the loons
       like little lithe canoes
as the ripples
                      ride them.