Light ripples the edge of the river
touches the grain of the old stone walls
holds the twisty tree trunks closer
dabs on prisms of golden curls.
Sound wafts on the arm of the breeze
catches the arc of the setting sun
pulls the feathery branches nearer
paints soft notes with silvery swirls.
Scent skips on the brim of the rooftop
fingers the silk of the ribbon’s sash
sips the fragrance of summer weather
draws from mem’ry the ebony pearls.
Touch dances along the window
grasps the heart of an ancient song
hugs the laughter of sleeping children
brushes the sky with the blues of the world.
Central New York Branch