Dear Second Canal;
I dream of silver foxes slinking along your bank. I dream
in orange and green,
of ivy unfolding beside your water
and of knotted tree trunks thick with moss.
I am infected with water moving like the drape
of a kimono sleeve–
Like breath against stone–
Slick as the foxes along your bank.
Water, delicate as air.
I reflect this back to you, Second Canal,
as I dream of sneaking
along the banks of your silver.
(from a postcard poem series written home to Holyoke, in Kyoto, Japan)