Impulse, Direction

Canyons spread apart 
As rivers slowly carve 
Droplets into clay 
A surface sweet Algarve 

But beyond this foreign shore 
Above, behind, before 
Creation mostly swum 
This background chatter hum 

A movement full of pitch 
Resounding daylight gavel 
Instincts barely stitched 
To boundaries I might travel 

Grounding to the edges 
Of this natural building's ledges 
Concern will keep me going 
But landscapes determine the flowing