River flows to the sea
with chants on feathered winds
that in repeated rhythms sing
of now, or when–and if
in breath–almost held–
you hear the beat of ancient things,
the whispered sighs, like fiddle strings
played softly in the night–ask,
but don’t expect an answer
from moon’s hum or the finned-filled tide,
except in dream-song laughter,
when silver light meets rosy dawn
in rainbow-clouded slide
sails on echoes of the osprey’s cry–
a lullaby to earth from sky.
Today’s collaborative poem with the Magnetic Poetry Oracle. She obviously knows how the river and river birds inspire me, even if she doesn’t have all the words in her tiles.