Till you go under believing you’ll never
return to the sky, you won’t understand
water, even if you’ve lived around rivers
and streams all your life. You need
to know how the sandstone slab crosses
the river, causes a waterfall ahead that still
turns the old wheel. Instead, you’re new
to the terrain, picturing the gardening shop
inside the mill as you head upriver to put in,
imagining the new performers you’ll find
after the paddle, planning to swing back
there later, not knowing of the falls.