An army which rushes through the valley
and yet has no general.
Water sweeps lotus petals and bilge
unending to deep and ancient seas
which froth forth fishes communal
or sits below a green dune
and lifts to the sun the opalescent swans
which drift through the algae.
It is a pity I am not of water,
and do not flow but trip with the best;
nor do I lift the birds,
but wish forever that they lift me.
There is nothing of the past or future
in creeks or ponds.
