When they found the girl, blue faced in the green creek, no one knew her name, but the water owned her hair and ran
Slow tumult, then tumbling with the river’s currents, eels darkening remainders of daylight, the snapping turtle sequestering its own swamp of sorrows, damselflies–hyacinth needles
“…if thou subdue the thunders to a tone of murmurous gentleness, and taste the sweet, love-rippling features of the river at thy feet.” Kalidasa