Drink From the Well

When the bird no longer cares, the rushing river cannot be crossed. All strength I possess, but if springtime does not boil my blood and laughter falls not; in summer rain, then~ The sun shines, but blossoms wither. Tickets cost a pound, half shilling in my pocket. Still I hear! Clouds echo with lightning, straight to my heart. Comrades thought fallen; rise to greet me, once more at my side! A raft, secured to both riverbanks, will lead us across the troubled water. Together, the purser waves us through, taking what he needs from our collective deposit. The day is still long, the sun bright, and flowers bloom once more. 02/23/14 © All Rights Reserved