its terribly cold, innocent spin

Now has come, an easy time. I let it 

roll. There is a lake somewhere 

so blue and far nobody owns it. 

A wind comes by and a willow listens 

gracefully. 

 

I hear all this, every summer. I laugh 

and cry for every turn of the world, 

its terribly cold, innocent spin. 

That lake stays blue and free; it goes 

on and on. 

 

And I know where it is. 

 

[William Stafford {1914-1993} 'Why am I Happy', from Ask Me]