Waters Of March

A stick, a stone, it's the end of the road

It's the rest of the stump, it's a little alone

It's a sliver of glass, it is life, it's the sun

It is night, it is death

It's a trap, it's a gun

The oak when it blooms, a fox in the brush

The knot in the wood, the song of a thrush

The wood of the wind, a cliff, a fall

A scratch, a lump, it is nothing at all

It's the wind blowing free, it's the end of the slope

It's a beam, it's a void, it's a hunch, it's a hope

And the river bank talks of the waters of March

It's the end of the strain, it's the joy in your heart

The foot, the ground, the flesh and the bone

The beat of the road, a slingshot stone

A fish, a flash, a silvery glow

A fight, a bet, the range of a bow

The bed of the well, the end of the line

The dismay in the face, it's a loss, it's a find

A spear, a spike, a point, a nail

A drip, a drop, the end of the tale

A truckload of bricks in the soft morning light

The sound of a shot in the dead of the night

A mile, a must, a thrust, a bump

It's a girl, it's a rhyme, it's a cold, it's the mumps

The plan of the house, the body in bed

And the car that got stuck, it's the mud, it's the mud

A float, a drift, a flight, a wing

A hawk, a quail, the promise of spring

And the river bank talks of the waters of March

It's the promise of life, it's the joy in your heart

A snake, a stick, it is John, it is Joe

It's a thorn in your hand and a cut in your toe

A point, a grain, a bee, a bite

A blink, a buzzard, a sudden stroke of night

A pass in the mountains, a horse and a mule

In the distance, the shelves rode three shadows of blue

And the river bank talks of the waters of March

It's the promise of life in your heart, in your heart

A stick, a stone, the end of the load

The ash of a log, a lonesome road

A sliver of glass, a life, the sun

A knight, a death, the end of the run

And the river bank talks of the waters of March

It's the end of all strain, it's the joy in your heart