Consider this:
if the fibrillating willow,
water as it mostly is,
is a sort of slow
fountain,
that leaves all of us, aloft, alow
(if, granted,
swifter over the ground,
moreover),
more of a river.
from Poetry Northwest 12.2 Winter & Spring 2018More by Richard Kenney from the library
Copyright © Richard Kenney
Used with the permission of the author
on behalf of Poetry Northwest.