The Last Wade and Row

Two rivers converged in a field of green
Entering one side I started to wade
I must go far upstream
To realize my glorious dream
While the heat of the summer day evade

I ripped the arrows from my quiver
When I came upon a raft to row
Couldn’t take a chance in the river
To drop an arrow from some shiver
Sharp arrows always a raft’s foe

The wind was cool and clean
Sol kissed the water with a smile
But up ahead dancing a beguine
A grizzly bear hungry and mean
This may very well be my last mile

I miss those little arrows from my quiver
But away they sail so I could row
To God’s throne they float down river
Ignoring my frantic screams they won’t come hither
I miss them now more than they could know

Donnie Bryson
1/19/13