The Silvery Slocan

Not so much immortality—
More like just a bridge, a next step,

A metaphor for extension,
Which is what metaphors are for—

You have a child, and you present
Child to the world, world to the child,

A double blossoming, the mind
Finding a new spring by the lake,

The spring finding a world of pines,
Paths, and houses for the first time.

Morning, and the silver rises
From the lake, what is and isn’t

The same vapor as the water.
As a wave, you lead on to waves,

And the waves go on forever
Or wherever, you tell your child,

Who carries on, rising, the next
Crest as you recede. It’s enough.

There’s nothing else and nothing more.
The silver doesn’t need the shore.