Waiting, silently, the Cross dangles from the roof,

Hanging, but still welcoming all,

Waiting for the sound of love to be proclaimed,

By the organist, silent prayers or spoken liturgy.

All thoughts and sounds are welcome.

The stillness of the river, beguiles me.

It seems to be waiting for me to out run it,

So slowly does it move,

Hardly breaking a reflection,

Or presenting a ripple to disturb its own peace.

And thereby keep mine also. In a perfect harmony so lovely, it makes me uneasy.

The long walk in the woods,

This time along the riverbank,

Thirsty for rain, in the midsummer drought,

Water heads down towards the sea,

Ready to meet its salty friend.

Filled with stories of the river, a path, and the hills.