The world turns softly Not to spill its lakes and rivers, The water is held in its arms And the sky is held in the water. What is water, That pours s…

- Hilda Conkling

The world turns softly / Not to spill its lakes and rivers.

- Hilda Conkling

The moon is at her crystal window / Spinning and weaving...

- Hilda Conkling

The morning is like the inside of a snow-apple.

- Hilda Conkling