Silt

Silt:

potential banks,

meanders and

beds

that flurried

and formed.

Then

drifted

did not bind

and bend

and the river sighed:

another course to wind.

The fertile earth

that was lost

became found

home

elsewhere

but gone are

the shells, and

sweet grasses

and clover

of a

ground conceived.

Footsteps not taken.

Sun and stars

that did not

bathe a time

with blessing and

light.

The silk of

silt,

sleeping,

dreaming

of smiles

hands

hearts

homes

lips

amongst the

wistful whistling

reeds.