How many autumns

has the raging river swept

to the distant sea?

 
 
 

That thirsty sparrow
 
thinks it can drink every drop
 
of the deep river!

 
 
 

Where the river bends,
 
cottonwood leaves turn yellow—
 
first day of autumn.

 
 
 

Sizzling afternoon—
 
into the river a crow
 
drops like Icarus.

 
 
 

Nothing stays the same—
 
pine cones, dog bones, river stones
 
crumble into dust.

 
 
 

Even as I sleep,
 
the river keeps on flowing
 
to the restless sea.

 

 
 
 

On the first of May
 
I’m weeping as the river
 
slowly fades away.

 

 
 
 

Together we weep,
 
the river willow and I,
 
for all we have lost.

 

 
 
 

Keeper of the winds,
 
can you change the river’s course?
 
Can you shatter stars?

 

 
 
 

My rudderless boat—
 
the frigid river’s current
 
takes me where it will.