Water salt and water sweet
Stone of stone and stone of the leavings of living things,
What alchemy do you wreak?
Why my story? What good to you?
Lead me instead on the paths where yours is written.
There a raven came to grief;
There a beaver made his mound, burrowed where sand touches twining river, secreted
behind its veil of trees.
Sprig of hawthorn, branch of oak, sticky strand of willow blossom, turd of sheep, shard of
glass…
I’m listening
