But first the mountains Covered in stars, the purple peeks The emerald cliffs. The winter’s melt; The rush and rage, oh at mid-life That downward pull upwards. The stream meets the river the River sighs, red and full of clay (I remember the day we met like that) Full of fish and thoughts of… First the moon, then the tide. Onward through naked sand Stone, full of compressed time. The chromatic choir plays a Crescendo, as the raven never Really sleeps. Then the spring Meets the summer dry and full Of ash. How the ancestors came Here to pass, that bridge and All the distance. Down By the river, covered in a deeper Shadow, I kneel and feel The river at midnight.