Marbled veins of incandescent moon green
Breaking up granite with wandering power.
– In the spring
Rejuvenating, like a cold slap from a beautiful woman –
In the false confidence of spring I hear my name called repeatedly
In among the tumbling mountains
And the hum of the budding sun encouraging me from behind,
Thus I’m carried to sway her bank
But find my name in a drowning stick.
If I sang so my throat exploded
It wouldn't pause her gasp of
The thick air of new life.
So I steal a splash from a passing ripple;
Plenty enough to give me song.
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