Old river shores,
I can tell by the geometry
of your vegetation
that living hands
have shaped your landscape.
Long rectangular stands
of poplar trees
line water's edge,
pines carve up geography
in whimsical shapes
and trim islands
with precise nautical design.
You present yourself
as an untamed scene,
but you have been
slyly maneuvered into
a pseudo natural state.
Centuries of mankind
have cunningly
altered and re-altered
your comely
curves and costumes.

Just being there,

Free from ambitious intentions,

disinterested in profits

of competition with neighboring geography.

They are there as they were

before the worried signature

of progress appeared.

One senses a meeting with primal time -

ages unsullied by the vision

and revision of restless centuries.