The river at night

The cold river water
was talked about in the garden’s veranda
always in memories and thoughts
every morning kind of ritual
the river’s history continues

^^^^^^^^^^ to be translated as homework
tomorrow is work
but before we search through the wild rice for wild life
stretching, walking, talking the rhythm of approaching light
the sun beams remind us of the tree tops, trunks, and roots

beneath our boots we found our souls
the sounds that our town holds brings treasure
every measure is weighed to its adventure
the buttons we press, buttons pressed upon us
the sure answers of intuition in spontaneous invention

the fourth dimension is time
so our rhymes contort reports of front line fort confines
fun for the shrine to reorganize, stump counting lines
as the birds chirp wise words from the curbs of banisters we would climb
sublime founds its better half
vines with grapes (that because of water) are shinier than glass
over spilling empty
the factory found its calling in a flow
natural
and always exciting
as the first picked vegetable

 

 

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