The Waters of March

A stick a stone
It's the end of the road
It's the rest of the stump
It's a little alone
It's a sliver of glass
It is life, it's the sun
It is night, it is death
It's a trap, it's a gun
The oak when it blooms
A fox in the brush
The knot in the wood
The song of the thrush
The wood of the wind
A cliff, a fall
A scratch, a lump
It is nothing at all
It's the wind blowing free
It's the end of a slope
It's a beam, it's a void
It's a hunch, it's a hope
And the riverbank talks
Of the water of march
It's the end of the strain
It's the joy in your heart
The foot, the ground
The flesh, the bone
The beat of the road
A slingshot stone
A fish, a flash
A silvery glow
A fight, a bet
The range of the bow
The bed of the well
The end of the line
The dismay in the face
It's a loss, it's a find
A spear, a spike
A point, a nail
A drip, a drop
The end of the tale
A truckload of bricks
In the soft morning light
The shot of a gun
In the dead of the night
A mile, a must
A thrust, a bump
It's a girl, it's a rhyme
It's the cold, it's the mumps
The plan of the house
The body in bed
The car that got stuck
It's the mud, it's the mud
A float, a drift
A flight, a wing
A hawk, a quail
The promise of spring
And the riverbank talks
Of the waters of march
It's the promise of life
It's the joy in your heart