I saw you once in the mountains of Ireland a narrow stream dropping like a ribbon of ice. Once in a broad leaf trunk smooth

What will rise and what will follow, what will fall into the yawning deep? In the earth the sound of water and rush of stones.

No one told the plum tree about the end of the world, or the fat layered seal about oceans passing. Changes come, but a pup

The sea shows the edges of her skirts and the slightest bit of skin beneath the rumpled taffeta of wind driven waves and the bright