The water sparkles and gurgles
the merry current leads you on
--everything is picturesque and perfect
the trees are THAT shade of green;
the water is THAT lovely sheen;
the sky is THAT brilliant blue,
where THAT is the best you could have dreamed of,
and long you float along
--or is it short?
--it seems at once to be a breath and an age--
when wider does the water get
and fewer stand the trees
and soon your boats begin to rock
in salty waves and breeze
and river becomes ocean
but you cannot desert your devotion
--you turn to beat against the ebb
to row back against the flow
you beat on,
as your sylvan dream recedes
against the current you beat on
ceaselessly reaching for the past
for THAT green
for THAT sheen
for THAT blue
and your strivings do you justice--in what may be breath or age
--the river mouth is yours
but the current beats against you
and the banks are new and strange
and THAT which you have dreamed of
has gone and come back changed.
YOU ARE READING
weather and mk
PoésieAs an TCK, whether or not you notice, sometimes weather seems to mirror your life.