Joe Jared


Common Loon

The liquid darkness of the lake

Is where I live and sleep and wake

Where wavelets whisper, lisp, and break

And sparks of stars swim at my side

To mirror Heavenís milky tide.

I send my prehistoric wails

Across the night on silver sails,

And everything in moonlight pales

To hear soliloquies of loon

Beneath the molten silver moon.

Is it my laugh or just my cry

That lures the night to swoon and sigh

And listen close as if to die

Were soon the doom of all the earth?

Why then this strange mesmeric mirth?

Behind all things there stands a thought.

Behind the thought it is not naught;

There is a Thinker to be sought.

Therefore, by night one must not swoon,

But hear the laughter of the loon.



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