each time

.

.

 

The soul said, "Give me something to look at."

So I gave her a farm.  She said,

"It's too large."  So I gave her a field.

The two of us sat down.

.

Sometimes I would fall in love with a lake

Or a pine cone.  But I liked her

Most.  She knew it.

"Keep writing," she said.

.

So I did.  Each time the new snow fell,

We would be married again.

The holy dead sat down by our bed.

This went on for years.

.

"This field is getting too small," she said.

"Don't you know anyone else

To fall in love with?"

What would you have said to Her?

 

 

 

 

 

~ Robert Bly

.

.