By Greg Pape from Four Swans, Lynx House Press, 2013

The river is high and clouded, little

by little cutting the east banks,

washing soil from among the roots.

Big pines and cottonwoods falling to snags

forming pockets, temporary cover,

holding water for trout. Water says

everything’s temporary, everything’s moving,

trees, gravel bar, the new house

where the roofer kneels, nailing shingles

in light rain. Look, water says,

right now, before and after-

raindrops falling into clouds on the sunlit river.