For Robert Bly
He had gotten old
last time I saw him,
hair thinned white
though still
with fire in his belly.
He’d lit that fire for many,
bringing wildness
and passion
to the inmates
of boredom.
We won’t find
another like him
until we drop
into the dark pool
and recover the face
lying below
deep water.
Reading of “An Old Tree Falls” with music composed by Turlough O’Caralan