WL Schuett

Midnite Paddle

down the stream of fellowship 

into the breath of tranquility 

close, mist laden shores 

a million stars assault your sensibilities 

 

the bend of the river deep green 

chill rising in the warm still night 

the pull of the paddles, duck weed parts 

Milky Way rising, a mystical sight 

 

where the river collides with the sky 

rhythm of the paddles break the silent moon

dark hidden depths, Whitewater lorded

shores quiet chatter, a call from a loon 

 

the music from a thousand nights 

a solemn hymm only the river can compose

lost in a timeless rhythm 

that only a paddler really knows

 

at one with the current 

life in harmony, souls release 

glide through the water with quiet dignity 

wth each pull of the paddle ...

                   a sense of peace