the river runs fast

it does not know to stop

the motion of unmotion is

a mighty force

bitter wind sweet wind

licking the nose and the mouth and

the ears

twisting trees bent around another

a line of sunshine a contrast

with the dulling sky

decay of man haunts

the sights

an amorphous shape of feeling

and unfeeling

the silence is peaceful and

if you get up high you can see

on a hill of mens hands

a mountain of stone

left