Keep this place in mind,
the peace you came to, pausing here
by Indian River. The water green
as absinthe, the thundering
so like silence

Think of birds
you saw, or heard—the dipper
balancing on a stone
before it entered the stream,
the easy torrent of song
released from the throat of a wren.
You have come to admire
a music that isn’t human
and here, it’s everywhere
in leaf, bird, and falling
water. Something other
than our own—
the inexplicable greenness
of these deep pools—and yet analogous
to the mind’s clearest impulse.

from The Disappearing Poet Blues.