Seeking the Power
You love the sound of the river, its broad pulse
drifting in sunbathed rock. For hours your head lies
watching the bright waves thrust out of sight
or ankle-deep you stride your doubled self
to the middle but won’t swim out. You are seeking
the water’s name, I know, to tame it and stroke
the long silver neck in flight, and mount
and change its course forever.
Light as a feather, the unknown water’s name,
yet into the longdrawn noon you harness
thunder-bolts.