(A furtively insensible glance beneath the foliage:
The dawningmist caresses the stones.)

Striding hidden through (the belonging pondweed)

Climbing over a rained creek (inside a soft misty rain)

Reading in raindrops on rose-hip; (my property)

I am clear. Clearer than wellwaters megin
I am clear on what is dead with this life.

Clear. Harder than Sorrow’s first tears
Clear. Cleaner than sustenance of real gladness

Clear.