White crane in a circle of cows,
hailing rain soaks the new year.
The river, just over the banks,
curls to the sea, the sunrise, multiplied
by ripples, gives gold fluidity a stage
and song, as each original drop’s outcome
overpours the beach.
Water flows to seek it’s own level.
Morning mist rises as high as the clouds,
cross current waves arch like thundering ballerinas
while tide pool puddles mirror the stars.
The edge of the world pushes us
toward each other; driftwood, firewood.
We leave behind what we put forward, before the branches