Spring waters flow,
Warmed by Father Sun,
Swelling beyond the keeping banks,
Leaching winter’s frosted ores,
Through spreading fingers,
Of the water’s course,
Renewing those, along its path,
That seem at first, to succumb,
Then emerge from the inundation,
With the strength of stamina,
And will to persevere,
Ultimately without complaint,
In understanding and appreciation,
Of the gifts of the tribulation,
As the water keeps its sacred task,
Cleansing Mother Earth,
Like the tears on a Warriors face,
Cleanse the soul.
