It can be said

Of all elements you are earth, not fire
that burns to be noticed--and much less rain
that drowns you with its power.
You are subtle and quiet, but not the air.

Slowly you teach me to be quiet and still.
You remind me of the grass in its silence.
the innocent stupidity of chirping birds,
the beauty of the gray jaguar prowling,
the suicidal skittering of red squirrels.

I am a wild-eyed wading heron.
I am always watching, never satisfied.
I want to soar above you and overshadow
your fields with my wings and wallow
in marshes and reed-land and shallows--

At night I want to nestle in the branches
of a cypress tree whose roots
plunge deep below the water into you
and rise up in knees and jolts of defiance.