Looking down from a distance at the headwaters of the Rio Grande
Your river calls you, sings softly to you, lures you like the Piper
And into her arms you go and flow
Enwrapped like a sleeping babe
Your toes curl and dig in warm sands
My river is cold
Kept and far away
Though right there before me
She allows me to look but not touch
Her icy depths go unfound
She does not beckon me
But chants to me in the distant hours
In a lonely wail of wild ways
And ancient wisdom where earth and sky merge
Full of answers for which I know not even the questions
And still I ask
And still I stare
And still I remain before her
And appeal for more