On the Banks of the Jordan

Oft’ I view, through willow fingers,
Lucid shades of blue
Heralding a breeze that lingers
On through Fall’s debut.

Frigid running of green water
Turns my mind away
From clear skies that are much broader
To another prey.

Watching for no special action,
I don’t find a thing;
Rather, I seek satisfaction
In what Jordan brings.

Simple tunes of nesting songbirds
And the changing leaves
Cause a sense of going backwards
Through the clock’s white sleeve.

Here I land, a reborn child
Knowing not the sting
Caused by losing Jordan wild . . .
Living like a king.