Down by the river

Observe the wind rattling
through dry bamboo

the sepia clouds
reflected in stark water

the fish clinging
to sullen rocks

everything waiting for some
change in the weather

either the acceleration of winter
or something warmer

like the perspiration of the man
driving a stake into the ground

his efforts echoing through
squat houses with blue roofs

arousing deserted pylons
whose wires are suddenly

smokestacks unraveling in the wind
wild cranes rising in the steel sky.