This one goes out to my main man, Walt Whitman! But also Ben Frank and Betsy Ross who keep equal watch over this resourceful river front in Philadelphia. And to Marian McLaughlin and Ethan Foote for sharing this awe-inspiring adventure with me today. And my buddy Matt Bennett for first putting the terminology of how a forest first finds it’s roots onto my periphery. Peace and love. Peace and love. Peace and love, my friends!
Where The Water Meets The Wind
Hold fast, my dear
Hang on for dear life.
The breeze that pushes against the sails of your soul
And gives you flight
Is also what stirs the butterflies
Fluttering their little hopeful hearts
Careening down the stream
A warm vibration
Across the river top
Making eddies and waves against this abandoned pier
Hold fast, my dear. Hang on for dear life.
In the abandoned land of industry
Lies a quiet revolution
Making waves of its own
As well as peaceful eddies
For us to find our balance in.
There one can spread out fully
In a meadow
Surrounded by sunflowers
In the cracks of urban decay
Replacing destructive habits
With a new reality.
It was the muse who first brought me here
When I was still finding my way
Now that I am back again
I see what I have been missing all along
Even in a city,
There are places where things still lie still
Where flocks of gold finches
Fly neon yellow wings in the summer sun
And crickets sing their tribal chorus
In tall grass made to lie upon
Where local herbal remedies
Slowly grow naturally
Repopulating what was once arid
With a truly holistic scene.
See, let it be still.
Let the earth take root.
Let it gain some energy.
And soon enough,
Along the side of the long eroded jetty
You can find the magnificent color
Of purple thistle
Hanging on to the wind
Where it meets with the water.