WATCH of the burning bank, a standing rank set over the white water. They appear along both shores as a host of trees gone to blood in the high band, glowing crimson rank behind rank, their crowns lifted toward a dark mountain while at their feet the river churns to foam and a thin mist rises from the broken falls. Their office is to keep the wild reach within its course, to flank the swift water as wardens flank a road, to throw back the color of the light they will not hold and so stand brighter than the day. The flood roars through their gate and they do not stir. Here the green is bound and the forest answers in fire; the water runs white between two walls of standing flame, watched and unhindered, kept and let go.
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