By the spring river, there is hope.

No low-lying mongrels of hate

nor sting of yesterday’s tenderness unwanted,

not assorted misgivings carried like a barrel about to burst.

Here people know better. They reawaken, rebound.

Here are play and gumption,

reckless sharing of happiness,

the gathered blessings of sun:

a moment floating then layering another,

a small masterpiece.

We come to see and remember :

green ease worn loose as a scarf,

rocks to release to currents or secret into pockets,

and river’s flow, retreat, swirl, upwellings

this ancient call, a deep song, a lithe singer.

Forgiveness of winter’s roughness,

reversing our dour inward vision.

We bask and leap, we accept its gifts.

By the spring river, there is hope.