swiftly gone a giant

A poem

at the river, swiftly
and stopped to kneel
pressed pebbles indenting knees
swiftly, rushes tall and rushes long
bubbling anaemic

stoop to drink.
Fretful, seeing broken gaze
and wondering what's beneath
familiar bits and pieces
sliced by sky and twigs.

Back up. Turn, shaded needles
pine and cones and other things
roots to stick, swiftly,
sap to jeans and scent—
crack of birds and haunt of toads.

I dreamt a thorn, upon
a long green stem. First one
and more the more I saw
like Jack, until the bloom
lost above the clouds

tricked me to think
I felt you here—
but the bloom was out of sight
unsure if it still held
petals. But you, swiftly,

shaded needles—I rarely spoke.
As much a dream as that tall
stalk, and just as beautiful as that
curled bloom. But you
inserted in a pick

all years stopped and we—
pebbles pressed in knees
remember only broken things
while you, a giant,
outshone the sun

and swiftly, gone.