The River

The River

The River flows through the seasons of the year,
umber coloured, turning sky blue.
And swelling bird song we hear.

Spring throws a mantle of gentle hue
The flash of Kingfisher blue against water clear.
The River flows through the seasons of the year.
Swans parading with Cygnets, in fanned flank,
The grey Heron flying without fear,
And soon swelling birdsong we hear.

Seasons die; lost promises gone we fear,
Spring, summer, autumn leaves drop on bare bank.
The River flows through the seasons of the year.
Resurrection will come to those who are dear,
For the promise of eternal life we thank
And soon swelling birdsong we hear.

Life flows like a River and need hold no fear.
For we can catch and hold the bank,
The River flows through the seasons of the year,
And soon swelling birdsong we hear.