camino del rio
Whether flowing or in drought
stretched out long and thin as an arrow
Horizontally
In the cool
Gentle and soft as the waving seaweed
Strong and watchful as the drinking hawk
Clear as light or riled up with rain
Easy and smooth, like the yellow petals
sailing past
And destructive as a flood
The millions of stones and their billions of
colors…marks…lines…time…experience
don’t amount to the small one
in her green river
The held spear
can’t hurt a soul