In the Silt - Electric Bard

The duckweed gathers on the sunken stones Where water beetles build their tiny town Six hundred seasons since the steeple fell And let the brass and timber settle down The miller says a treasure sits below Trapped underneath a bed of river reed I look into the pool and watch the trout Taking the sunlight that they really need No angry phantom rings the sunken clapper No watery ghost comes asking for a prayer Just friendly minnows swimming round the rim Blowing sweet bubbles in the summer air We lean across the willow branch to peek Splashing our fingers in the river creek Old preacher brings a rope and iron hook Swearing he will haul the metal high He loses both his boots inside the mud Cursing the puddle with a funny sigh The bell stays resting in the gentle muck Happy to leave the Sundays on the shelf It doesn't have to warn the countryside Or make a grand commotion for itself The kids skip flat stones on the quiet pool Counting the ripples as they glide away The past is sleeping safe beneath the wash Leaving us room to have a sunny day We leave the grappling iron in the grass Watching the peaceful morning slowly pass Bronze in the gravel. Weeds in the ring. Water allows the quiet metal to sing. Forget the sorrow, forget the damp. Hang up the work coat, put down the lamp. The river takes the heavy weight And washes out the old debate. Let The Bell Rest Deep Beneath The Silt Free From The Vanity That Men Have Built Rings In The Ripple, Sunshine On The Stream Sleeping In The Shallows Of A Quiet Dream Splash in the shallows, shake off the dew Plenty of morning waiting for me and you Safe in the mud. Ring without sound. The sweetest peace that the river found.