At the edge of my sight
Ripples unfurling the foretold morning
Sunlight ancient and cold revealing the alien shapes
Sliding between sky and smooth rock
Like dragons wrapped in perfumed myth.
Clouds scurry by dipped with ink
Gazing narcissistically into the thin water.
Stones drown in winding weed
Alder trees wheel through the fish-eyed ghosts
Who haunt the fringes where winter ice
Only days away held firm.
The shattered glass of frozen silence
Stilled to stone, holds our breath to its bosom
Like some dreaming river goddess
Lost in time, unworshipped now
And fading like ochre after the storm.
Confused bird prints like thrown runes
Scatter the shore with riddles,
The river has taken their meaning
Cleansing chasten thoughts to the idle watcher.
The sweet breath of river beasts, lingers
Still, whispering in the stiff grasses
Marking time and tide with infinite tolerance.
The heron, snaked-necked and laden
Abandons the river to sweep the reeds
Feather on feather as soft as dream
As the serpent searches for the salty
Tears of the sea.
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