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

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *