A poem from Gwendolyn MacEwen

Dark Pines Under Water

This land like a mirror turns you inward

And you become a forest in a furtive lake,

The dark pines of your mind reach downward,

You dream in the green of your time,

Your memory is a row of sinking pines.

Explorer, you tell yourself this is not what you came for

Although it is good here, and green,

You had meant to move with a kind of largeness,

You had planned a heavy grace, an anguished dream.

But the dark pines of your mind dip deeper

And you are sinking, sinking, sleeper

In an elementary world;

There is something down there and you want it told.