Children picking through the rocks
beside the river on a spring day.
What are they looking for? Old green
net tangled on broken pilings; a couple
embracing on the tumbledown esplanade.
Some fishermen drinking beer from tall brown bottles. 
Broken shells, tire treads, rusted aluminum pull-tabs—
downriver, near the sun, the great echoes 
and the embers of the bridge; and upriver,
far away, the echoing spools and dynamos 
of the dam, its forces crackling outward 
like the giant snow crab's jointed legs,
like a web in sunlight, a net, a chorus
of embers, like a plan the river is planning,
abstract, afire and electric, glowing
in the levitating rubric, invisible,
visible to children, undiscovered:
Brace yourselves—electricity 
is coming to us.