The slope comes to the riverbank
where it is absorbed by the rounded pebbles
and the smell of damp
New trees pop from the edges of clear
they are leafing and basically twigs in mud
placed there by a child or parent of a child
Sound of frogs and of birds
cicadas cocophaning in the limbs of larger wood
they will all fall soon make a snow of bodies
How fucking clear is this water
and cold
it fills with flash bang fish and noise
The clouds catch on mountains and pull seams
like two hands ripping off a tank top
everything pours into our eyes
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