a note on being

[image source]

. . . whose song is sharpness,
clarities
twisted by wind

walking through and above,
vision gossips
with voice
of a river,
a liquid texture heavy
with whispers

crows dream
the yellow return of alders,
leaves hiding the shadow
of a face
waning with the moon

this forgotten source,
founded on ripples
from a stone’s flight
into the possible

in the fluid image
of forever,
balanced
by the naked river’s flow,
hangs
this instant