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.