I followed the river back to you,
no easy stretch through choking leaves,
Still, I reached
as branches do.
For trees cannot let loose their limbs,
and roots remain where tree trunks do;
our separate roots, grown far apart
still find the water, as love does, too.
* * *
The heart is struck
by skipping rocks,
The earth is turned by
A garden born
of many seeds,
Decomposed, then using hands,
then feeding birds, then growing wings.