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.