huggers its way through

You're magisterial in judgment's gorge
where the rocks are at all angles and the stream
huggers its way through.

Geoffrey Hill, "Discourse for Stanley Rosen"

-

Showings are not unknown: a six-winged seraph
somewhere impends--it is the geste of invention,
not the creative but the creator spirit.
The night air sings a colder spell to come.

Geoffrey Hill, "Epiphany at Saint Mary and All Saints"
* italics are mine. Hill italicizes to mark direct quotations.