I woke to soft mists over the river,
A chilled, liquid, world where dew falls as rain
From the trees in muted musical notes
And the air is faintly luminescent…
A surreal place of contrasts and shadows
In pastel hues applied with a soft brush.

I kneel beside last night’s campfire and brush
Away ash, which settles on the river…
A fine, white, snow swirling in dark shadows
Of mist and water…a breeze brings more rain,
Drops hissing on coals, red and luminescent
As birds announce the sunrise with bright notes.

Upon my pad, a monarch reads my notes.
Later in the day, I will hear the brush
Of its wings in my mind, luminescent
Beats, which bubble in memory’s river.
Another breeze and more dew falls as rain,
Some glimmering pale gold in the shadows.

Slowly, the mists flow into the shadows,
There to sleep ‘till crickets play the first notes
Of tomorrow…dew is no longer rain,
Each drop a glowing gem at the first brush
Of the sun, which also turns the river
Into gold, molten and luminescent.

No better word would do…luminescent…
Glittering light dances where once shadows
And mists were pastels over the river…
And the music! Nature’s symphonic notes!
The birds, the river and the whisk-whisk brush
Of leaves form harmonies as soft, warm rain.

Sadness fills me and tears fall as rain.
These days are fragile things, luminescent
Once-was-could be’s…for man chooses to brush
Such beauty aside…he prefers shadows,
His music consists of discordant notes
Of waste which pollutes earth, air and river.

Beautiful the river! How sweet the rain!
I’ll record these notes in luminescent
Script and soft shadows, with my soul the brush!

–Poetry by E.W. Richardson