Where We Are

Where We Are


Fog in the morning here
will make some of the world far away
and the near only a hint.
But rain will feel its blind progress
along the valley, tapping to convert
one boulder at a time
into a glistening fact.
Daylight will love what came.
Whatever fits will be welcome.
Whatever steps back into the fog
will disappear and hardly exist.
You hear the river
saying a prayer for all that's gone.

Far over the valley there is an island
for everything left; and our island
will drift there too,
unless we hold on,
unless we tap like this: "Friend,
are you there? Will you touch when
you pass, like the rain?"


William Stafford

Posted over on Friends of William Stafford