Look closely at the banks of the creek; The stories whispered beneath the surface. I wait to bathe my voice In the rippling waters, Tracing every fold and nest, The brown waters shall coax us! Join me amongst the wild spears of grass— Dare to bend and intertwine, Let us embrace the edges Where the moss gathers, softer than thought, And laughter becomes graced With the kiss of the wind, Here, we know, we belong To the ageless dance of creation.

• Mina Loy