River At Night

O, Sing me a song
     of sunsets and slivers of moon
          and of rivers that wind down from hills
              in rills and in trickles
                 from seams in old rocks
                   to splash and to tickle
                   tree-toes in their socks
              of moss and brown loam
          and roam, silent and broad
          past towns and downs
            and down through valleys
                at last to the sea
                       to join in the tide
                               and ride
                                        in the silver wake
                                                 of a sliver of moon

-- Mark Weaver, Copyright 2004