Watching the waters
Here
where these hidden falls have rushed
the First Ones must have come
and tumbled,
as guests among foxes,
endless and clear—
the many-voiced birds,
rushed and tumbled
the coyote and deer,
for moons beyond counting
to fill their tight baskets
to fill these soft woods
with a sweet clear water
with a violent wealth—
and feel—
I whisper,
while watching these waters
awed and assured,
rush and tumble—
"I am one...
connected,
I am all...
quiet,
I am something very small..."
... alive.