Of course, it makes no literal sense

It is different in you (and all)
expanding to remember this
softness in the shape of your voice
and the trembling path to closing
as rolling waves might have wished
bold then quickly, again then shy
expressed in this rhythm of you
beyond such, all words belie

Black water turns wrecklessly
(through shy trees - brown and gray)
to the melting snow in mud banks
and calls parturient red limbs
to wait patiently for madness
because always I am what I wonder
and this will happen every year
as it has forever, until I am gone