At dawn I come out of the water plant. I feel earth piled high on my shoulders, one side mud and one side cooled by fire. From the leaves above my head I draw my shadow, let it run and run beneath me. It seems where men walk slow a woman hurries. You look up at the sun so you'll breathe well.
Fish die in glass.
Though the beaver chewed its tail the dam existed. The water, like honey, finds its level. It is climbing.