An airboat labors up the river, slicing
Through the sparkling water much
The same way as a sequined gown
Falls to a tailor’s knife. The air, which
Had been nearly silent, bearing only
Songs of birds, is likewise rent by
That boat’s great propeller. Such
A roar ensues, and my desire to be
Soothed by nature moving glacially
According to its own intentions,
Crashes. Eden’s gate is opened
Yet again by one too foolish
To leave well enough alone.