The poet Tasso sings of water's grace
Because of how it gathers as it should
Since God the Maker made its going good
According to its flowing into place.
It complemented every other race
Of elements that wrapped the rooted wood:
Leaf-stripping wind, dry earth where reaching stood,
And bolting fire that scarred the wooden face.
These elements that struggle with a tree
Will rest in peace when life comes back to me
In form of feet that flow like sparkling water,
Strong hands that know the ways of careful matter,
A torso shaped of wind that takes on form,
And eyes like flashing liberty of storm.