wide open, it rolls downstream
a window among endless windows
all vying for a view;
greedily taking it all in
There is an ear in the river
trickling down its canal
lean as a giggle, delighted
at its baby burble
broken open on a stone
There is a hand in the river
lean branch's knuckle
rapping summer’s pace.
Catching on a lazy leaf
dousing it in the stream
There is a head in the river
mouthing the things it hears
nosing the things it knows
drinking its reflection
empty: never learning,
the river now in the head
