A River Dried


Birds sing a somber song,
air is filled with hollow words,
the sun shines not so bright.
As mountains melt, a stream is forged
from son and daughter
and wife.
Clouds above that hang in wait
unleash their strength
and forge the river ever wide.
Steeped in the oak there remains
those of a life that held the reigns.
At last!  The brighter rays break through
the clouds, the trees, the pastel hues.
The rain, it slows,
the river dries,
its course already laid.