what does it happen
if you throw flowers into
the water,
does the river shiver,
wrinkle, at the touch of the petals
circles of water form
round and round
they float, clear as
bells its voices
spilling over rocks
foamy and old
cold streaming through
the spread fingers of fallen branches
until the sun gets through the foliage
and the resting hours boil
carrying its sweet load of
colors and silk and scent,
its eternal powers of healing
descending from the heart
carved in stone at the feet
of the oldest pine trees
white with snow
washing oaks foreheads
and settling for stories
there's wet sand between your toes
as you bend to catch
them
in a honeyed cup
your eyes still like a
hunter's moving along with the prey
and a smile drawn upon
the corner of your lips
the water's golden ribbons
flowing through your fingers
all I see
from where I stand
and watch you