I have tumbled down off the flood bank Placing my soles against the roots Of plants that anchor the steep mounded soil, Out onto the salt marsh. Here, the sky is green and the ground is blue, Or the other way about. Or perhaps there is only water, At the start of the bend, where the bank makes a wide curve south, And the river breathes her fullest, There was a man, on the path. And I stood to the side and minded mine Until he was past, and I was sure.