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Saturday, October 26, 2013

the river's bend

If I sit here quietly, oh river’s bend,
will you share with me the stories
of long before your shading trees
were cut down, when wild deer
used to stop on your banks
to drink from the edge when
cool clear water ran, in the mornings
when mist would hover like a veil
while rainbow colored dragonflies
would play tag with the gold and silver
fish whose heads would rise from
underneath your clear blue water

tell me of when the Potawatomi Indian
children would play and mothers would
bathe them in your stream,
when Chiefs, ‘keepers
of the fire’, would sit and speak
then dance in celebration
of Mother Nature’s spirit watching
over all the land and your waters
would run coming from the Mississippi
bends far away washing rough edges away

tell me of when a soft blanket had been
laid upon your grassy noll with a basket
filled of apples and grapes,
bread made by hand from wheat fields
just round the bend and two lovers would
sit sharing their yesterdays with the day
thinking about their tomorrows in each others

tell me of all the lonely tears that trickled down
onto your grass from the elder man's cheeks that
had sat here in nostalgia, fond memories of his most
beloved partner in life now in the hands of
the great spirit as he awaits his own departure
from your river’s banks to join the spirit
of the Eagle who'd soar hovering over to fish
in your pristine stream

Oh, river’s bend if I sit here quietly will you bless
me with more whispers of those things that
passed by in your stream and made you smile