AJ Padron

Along the river, winding so,

the trees draw hotly close

Dry air, wet ground,

But lack of unshod feet

The groggy song, of tired stream

with dark along the banks

light will filter through the leaves,

but lack that cleansing heat

No bodies part the echoed image,

No shouts of joy do ring

and a something sings a cheerful song,

with grieving tone beneath

An eddy stirs an empty boat

in a river wide and deep

The sway of water, and of trees

will put anyone to sleep.