There are songs aplenty, by the water’s edge.
If you could taste the salty sweetness
and breathe your fill of whispered air
If you could feel the rush of wind and sun,
Cast your eyes unto the diamond riverbed
and feast upon the richest earthy smell
You would hear them.
Down by the old willow tree,
past the furrow and beyond the dirt-strewn path,
There are songs aplenty.
The wind would hide-and-seek through branches,
through the rustled cotton of your shirt,
If you were there.
The birdsongs call across the rushes
and fireflies weave amongst the fleeting lights
When you are there.
A quiet summons crests and surfaces;
it lulls the rapid’s wandered flow.
There are songs aplenty by the water’s edge.
Elizabeth Emond-Stevenson, age 18