If a man would be a leader, let him be a bridge. If a woman would be a leader, let her be a pylon. Let her slice against the current, watching waterbirds fly on Beyond her sight over the distant ridge Where rapids stretch their legs and meander Out into the world. Let her buttress with steely arms The passersby who fear no harm From great arches, their master and commander. Gathering barnacles and algae, Our pylon stands in shadow And ice and foam. Straight backed as a tree With woody fingers full of snow A current for a home.