On the Three-Hour Train-Ride

First we pass a farm

And see dark wings flare up

Out of a patch of grain

We see the water-loving willows

With their slim leaves

And the tall rushes in the swamp

Their fleeces filled with light

Here’s a wide inlet

Perfectly still

Glazed with the tender colors

Of the morning sky

And here’s a fisherman

With his rod and creel

Standing alone

Thigh-deep in water

His spirit

Will outlast the earth

And here’s an acre of crushed cars

And there’s a refuse-heap

That’s white with seagulls

Here blindfolded with boards

Is an abandoned factory

In a field of yarrow

Here closer to the city

Some small pleasure-boats

Dance at their moorings

In the dirty river

King David says

We’re thirsty

For God

For the living God

When will we see His face?