Beauty Is Brief And Violent

Beauty is brief and violent
like the white thunderbolt
of Nilgiri slow and sudden
braided like her hair
one morning was a cluster
of grapes hung beside each
ear maybe it comes from where
hunger the voices of children
come breaking their way
to my heart the stones
my feet which are light
and heavy from walking
that path full and swift
the river flows eroding
the banks with its sinuous
desire gentle and unkind
the days the years boulders
tossed by a giant down the hill
we must climb to the sudden
sinuous blue