trout

Dark Unloading

Richard Reeve

The dark unloads on river, rock and plain;
And on the roof we hear the rising rush
Of wind, that drives the currents of the rain.

You, who would not concede, beneath the strain
Of half a life, now note the heavy hush
The dark unloads on river, rock and plain—

(And still, amid the gurgling of the drain,
Conceive a plan, a pattern to this flash
Of wind, that drives the currents of the rain).

The meat case creaks, the sky's visceral stain
Breaks open on the deer-infested bush:
The dark unloads on river, rock and plain,

Unloads its gall. Pressed to a window pane,
What slack impotence do your fingers crush?
But wind, that drives the currents of the rain,

But this, the beating deluge of the brain
Against what lies beyond its bone and mush:
Dark, unloading on river, rock and plain,
The wind, that drives the currents of the rain.