Love That Is Water

Anne Singleton

Love that is water, love that is a flood
Coming and going, silvering the land,
How shall we say of this, inductile water,
It shall be chiselled by the fragile sand?

Water slips lightly, flawless, from our confines,
Shaped to no permanent teature, fluid as air;
Though we stand hewing till the sword is eaten,
There is no lineament we shall chisel there.