By the highway the stream downslope
could hardly clear itself
through rubbish and slime but by
that resistance gained a cutting
depth equal to its breadth
and so had means to muscle into
ripples and spill over angled
shelves:
and so went on down in a long
curve, responsively slow to the
sizable ridge it
tended
and farther on down, quiet and clear,
never tipping enough to break sound,
slowed into marshy landrise and burst
into a bog of lupine and mirrored:
that was a place! what a place!
the soggy small marsh, nutgrass and swordweed!
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