Hidden, oh hidden br in the high fog br the house we live in, br beneath the magnetic rock, br rain-, rainbow-ridden, br where blood-black br bromelias, lichens, br owls, and the lint br of the waterfalls cling, br familiar, unbidden. br br In a dim age br of water br the brook sings loud br from a rib cage br of giant fern; vapor br climbs up the thick growth br effortlessly, turns back, br holding them both, br house and rock, br in a private cloud. br br At night, on the roof, br blind drops crawl br and the ordinary brown br owl gives us proof br he can count: br five times--always five-- br he stamps and takes off br after the fat frogs that, br shrilling for love, br clamber and mount. br br House, open house br to the white dew br and the milk-white sunrise br kind to the eyes, br to membership br of silver fish, mouse, br bookworms, br big moths; with a wall br for the mildew's br ignorant map; br br darkened and tarnished br by the warm touch br of the warm breath, br maculate, cherished; br rejoice! For a later br era will differ. br (O difference that kills br or intimidates, much br of all our small shadowy br life!) Without water br br the great rock will stare br unmagnetized, bare, br no longer wearing br rainbows or rain, br the forgiving air br and the high fog gone; br the owls will move on br and the several br waterfalls shrivel br in the steady sun.