Dusk over the lake, clouds floating heat lightning a nightmare behind branches; from the swamp the odor of cedar and fern, the long circular wail of the loon - the plump bird aches for fish for night to come down. Then it becomes so dark and still that I shatter the moon with an oar. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PASSION'S HOUNDS by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES SHUT OUT by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE LOW-DOWN WHITE by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE LOFT AT NIGHT by VIRGINIA ABEL ON A FAN by MATILDA BARBARA BETHAM-EDWARDS TREES IN AUTUMN by ANNE MILLAY BREMER FAREWELL TO CUBA by MARIA GOWEN BROOKS |