Is It Poetry
Anyone leaving or entering turns and looks.
Moving up to the edge of the bank.
The river where children I wonder at them all.
Rowing hand in hand,
side by side, canoe or the boat.
The tow rope,
she is laughing and sitting next to him.
The stern to turn is no one who pulls that.
The land and the sky, given time.
The steep banks,
seeing white water where there is no shoals.
And there is her firm body or his strong beating heart.
So is the mind,
where each one has believed to rest,
come and follow.
Being that large few are absent.
Across the short distance you did not find at all.
Then being strong,
he begins about her to think of them as one body.
Think carefully about where you are at.
The mouth of the river is large,
and trees hang out over each place where your feet are.
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