“Mornings at BlackwaterFor years, every morning, I drankfrom Blackwater Pond.It was flavored with oak leaves and also, no doubt,the feet of ducks.And always it assuaged mefrom the dry bowl of the very far past.What I want to say isthat the past is the past,and the present is what your life is,and you are capableof choosing what that will be,darling citizen.So come to the pond,or the river of your imagination,or the harbor of your longing,and put your lips to the world.And liveyour life.”