What have I done?
        but love the bare trees
        swaying in the wind?
 
What have I done—
        but listen to the pea-soup water
        smacking weeds against the shore?
 
What have I done...
        but cluck to the muskrat
        skimming grey waves with her
        waxy, spiked fur?
 
Life seems so short
As the sun sinks below
        the darkening horizon...
I have years left to live
But it's no time at all
        to the pea-soup water

        and the wind-swayed trees.