Fresh dew,
damp on the green grass of the green morning,
soaked the glen
and quenched the meadow's thirst
The meadowlark sang its songs
and filled the air with ditties
while mead filled the man up with dew distilled from a lark his own
It was for clarity that he drank the cup of water and honey,
turned and churned by degrees to reach the mind with knowledge
of his own thirst for one bare fact: he, his words
