AGAIN
What to do? It's the old boredom
Come again: indolent grass,
Wind creasing the water
Hardly at all; a bird floating
Round and round. For one hour
I have known Eden, the still place
We hunger for. My hand lay
Innocent; the mind was idle.
Nothing has changed; the day goes on
With its business, watching itself
In a calm mirror. Yet I know now
I am ready for the sly tone
Of the serpent, ready to climb
My branches after the same fruit.