The River flows through green meadows yonder,
From the hillside I gaze and quietly wonder;
About all the past souls who saw it in yore,
Absorbing it s beauty and now they’re no more.
Was it always so gentle and ever so trim?
Caressing grasses along the bank’s rim.
Sweet liquid creation, O free running thing,
The sheen on your surface makes my heart sing.
Your depths are a mystery where the fish hide,
And rush beds make way for the Swan to abide;
The scampering Moor-hen’s cackling cluck,
Shatters the silence, disturbing the Duck.
Artery of life as you reach to the sea,
The Willow Tree bows in obeisance to thee;
Without the great water and blessings you bring,
My gaze would be empty, my heart would not sing.
Monty Alexander 17.2.99