I came upon a river flows,
Whose dreams nobody knows.
She laughed and danced, with songs that tranced,
In tides of highs and lows.
There was a farmer down her streams,
Who toils all day it seems.
When dawn’th breaks until it slakes,
He thinks none of his dreams.
Tell me sir from whose banks you seed,
The secret she doth bleed.
His head hung low and snarled so,
“Her rich soil’s all I need.”
There was a fisher further still,
Who trolls the river’s fill.
His lines go out with faith no doubt,
A catch is sole his thrill.
Tell me sir from whose banks you’ve stood,
Her secrets if you could.
His eyes just dropped from whence he scoffed,
“You seek more than is good.”
I saw a lighthouse farthest down,
Whose watchman was aroun’.
He watched her flow and undertow,
With nothing but a frown.
Tell me sir of whose banks you tend,
The meaning of her wend.
His face grew bright and smile alight,
Came pearls he longed to rend.
“I’ll tell you of the river’s flow,
Whose dreams aren’t ours to know.
Her laugh, her dance, and songs that trance,
Give vestige of her soul.”
© Gregory Masiello, 2017