SPATE of the swollen river, the gilded passage cut by water that would not be kept. He appeareth in the high season as a river gone over its banks, a milky sheet shot through with strange turquoise pouring among pale boulders, the gold of the bankside wood standing in the spilled water as if drowned; downstream he brightens and bends away into a country he did not run through before. His office is to make a road of being overrun: to teach that the water which breaks its bounds is not lost but enlarging, and that the flood and the new channel are one act seen at its two ends. Whatever a river breaks, it breaks into a wider self. He arrives at the turning, when the snowmelt is too much to hold, and leaves having reached what staying never could.
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