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.