In moonlight, however faint,
you come down to drink
feeling your way in the always dark
to the water, however shallow, still clear,
where you slowly press your face. 

You, bent and bewildered now,
where you used to come
smoothly down and the water always waiting
full and shining to receive your mouth:
trembling and grateful to have found the path
you come down.   

In the moonlight, however faint, 
remembering the path,
the pond, still and secret:
broken and dying 
you come down.