Flowers bloom at night and throw off phantom darts of light Living little opal stars and little phantom shimmers A shadow with a watering can crept in to tend the garden The soundless shade made its way as crickets all around Chose their nighttime music and made their nighttime sound Within the grove the shadow flowed and knelt before the moss Shadow water sprinkled on the earthy forest bed The thinnest grin above the trees A secret joke A sliver peeking in through a starry door Shadow water sprinkled soundless on the mossy forest floor Water drawn from a well, secluded on a hill In the summer of the poet's youth Before he learned the poet's truth That life will never yield to Will That life will never yield to Will And that watering can held tightly in ghostly hand! Where is it from, where has it been? The shed by the house of the sleeping poet! It sits there still on its shelf! And he dreams in his bed as the moon overhead Sheds light from a silver crescent He dreams of the grove and the mound and the seed It was watered that night with the water of need