In July the river ripples alternate

                                                violet and green, violet and green

                                    tree branches catch the shimmer

                                                the whole world vibrates.

                                    On the bank, the tall grass explodes

                                                with the last bright sun of day,

                                    we bathe in pure light

                                                stroking through gold grass.

In October still water turns bare trees

                                                upside down, reclothes them in floating leaves

                                    our canoe slips through the water trees,

                                                glides among branches, paddles into clouds.

In April every bush and tree is lit with pale green fire,          

finches and warblers blaze and flicker.

Hushed, attuned, we become what we behold

                                                here between earth and sky.