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.