The Waters of March

A stick a stone It's the end of the road It's the rest of the stump It's a little alone It's a sliver of glass It is life, it's the sun It is night, it is death It's a trap, it's a gun The oak when it blooms A fox in the brush The knot in the wood The song of the thrush The wood of the wind A cliff, a fall A scratch, a lump It is nothing at all It's the wind blowing free It's the end of a slope It's a beam, it's a void It's a hunch, it's a hope And the riverbank talks Of the water of march It's the end of the strain It's the joy in your heart The foot, the ground The flesh, the bone The beat of the road A slingshot stone A fish, a flash A silvery glow A fight, a bet The range of the bow The bed of the well The end of the line The dismay in the face It's a loss, it's a find A spear, a spike A point, a nail A drip, a drop The end of the tale A truckload of bricks In the soft morning light The shot of a gun In the dead of the night A mile, a must A thrust, a bump It's a girl, it's a rhyme It's the cold, it's the mumps The plan of the house The body in bed The car that got stuck It's the mud, it's the mud A float, a drift A flight, a wing A hawk, a quail The promise of spring And the riverbank talks Of the waters of march It's the promise of life It's the joy in your heart