Over the Rocks
miles of whitish wild skin
and pale brown-
Wise giants
of the South.
We lived resting-
waking-
to the warmth
of Spring
Songs made
of Sand and Mud.
And so
we became fast-
rivers
running
more than a little
water-
We had infinite light
We had endless time
We had to choose
among
the Sky
the Soil
the Sea
the Trees
the Human
stream-
We have eyes
We are clouds
the leaf –
the never-ending
rhythm of life.