Poem by the Dutch writer C.O. Jellema

 Midges

Do lovers ask themselves: our love, will it

add anything to love? –  so does

the fruit of a womb maintain the

doggedness of dying –

Something dreams itself lost within us,

something wants it random, something

survives it, just as

above night’s newly fallen snow

melting in the midday sun

that cloud of

dancing midges –

a mere image, lighter

than body is ever.