Some time when the river is ice ask me
mistakes I have made. Ask me whether
what I have done in my life. Others
have come in their slow way into
my thought, and some have tried to help
or to hurt: ask me what difference
their strongest love or hate has made.
I will listen to what you say.
You and I can turn to look
at the silent river and wait. We know
the current is there, hidden: and there
are comings and goings from miles away
that holds the stillness exactly before us.
What the rivers says, that is what I say.
– William Stafford