Cycles returning, of dusty encampments by big river rushing,
Torrents of fresh-fallen rain,
Through dark, deep canyons
To cloudless skies where deserts drain
Into waterless seas.
These sands have known the rain, too,
For purple flowers have filled dusk-sweetened canyons
With heavy ambrosia of spring walks in moonlight
Hand in hand along the cliffs' meeting River.
Council us of hot summers to come
When the river will, slow and narrow,
Carry us to watered seasons
Of fish swims and poets who walk with us.
But now, cycles are returning
Won't you take my hand and walk?
Along the gentle river's edge
And the sands so dry and parched
Of your broken hearts
Will be watered and break forth into singing
Spring forth and bloom again
Let the scent of Love fill your feelings.
I know, for I have walked,
And been touched by the springtime's Healing!
But now cycles are returning
(written about spring on the Colorado River near Blythe, CA, but on the Arizona side
south about ten miles where there used to be beautiful lakes for waterbirds until the river
lost all its water to greed. Music was composed by the author in Anacortes WA, 1983 and afirst sung at open mic at the Jazz Bar downtown on Commercial. Ave.)