Silver Stream

it is addressed thusly:
For Roland John Ford.
it reads:
I took a stone and skipped it
I drew forth my hand and dipped it
Dipped it deep within this stream
Can I recall how long it's been
Been since young I sat and watched
Watched as sundry items crossed
Crossed across this land?

A leaf does pass and with it fish
Fish of silver, as a wish
Passing long, and staying short
Seen but brief to make retort
Retort to call it back, a dream
Dream among the brown and green
And lay it in my hand?

What are carried, as the thoughts
Among the wispy watery knots
Who sing its wistful, burbling song
A song whose day was all but long
Long its measure, driving slow
Slow as we who sit below
And try to understand?

Lapping, rolling life and ring
Ring of trees about it sing
Sing of their source, sing of their end
Or sing of going 'round the bend
A bend beyond this riven land
And give forth a vision grand?
A cataract, a mighty strand?
Or yet, as I withdraw my hand
Nothing more than this.

1 comment:

  1. There are times when I forget why I am here, then I read this poem and remember the little guy sitting by a country stream and falling deeply in love with the creations of God.


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