Rivers rise in aimless beds,
Soft enough to bend through hills,
Till something in them finally heads
Through glaciers, rocks, and daffodils,
And pauses in its straighter fall to ocean,

The molten springs of water’s core
Calmed and deepened by its ponds,
Pushed by fires to the shore
Of silent ferns and fronds,
Filtered through our raw debris
Before it settles down to sea,

Where the chaos of the tide must wonder
What workings of the land,
What constant errant flow down under
Takes us blindly by the hand
And lets our naive affections pour
From the nascent pools they were before,

The infinite machinery
That breeds a planet out of stagnant rain,
Galaxies from gravity
And oceans from the cosmic brain,
Hiding human layers in a lake
Until a ripple lets them wake.