Sometimes the Heart is a Shallow Autumn River - Jane Hirshfield
Is rock and shadow, bird.
Is fry, as the smallest fish are called,
darting in the pan of nearness.
The frog’s flawless interpretation of the music “Leaf”
is a floating black-eyed emerald
slipped between the water and its reflections.
And caution, and hope, and sorrow?
As umbrellas are, to a mountain or field of grass.