Wading Girl

I waded into water on thoughtful feet.

Looked long. And began to see.

Evening came on waves,

fleeing the night gliding behind.

The lapping, now stilled, gave back islands,

skies, shores, arcs of reed.

I possessed all, like that waterface.

Clear peace, the quietest quiet.

I looked in. I looked ahead.

A stranger's oar dipped in the water.

A man came rowing over the reaches.

The mirror broke. And I wept in the morning.

THE CHANTARELLE (by Helvi Juvonen)

Luke 17:21

The chantarelle lifted its fragile cup,

the rain filled it; in the drop

the sky glimmered, restraining the wind.

The chantarelle lifted its fragile cup:

come, a toast, to the richness of our lives!

The poem of Eeva-Liisa Manner is used by permission of Tammi Publishing

Company (Helsinki); the other Finnish poems by permission of Werner Söder-

ström Osakeyhtiö.