Clouds above now reflected in you,

In waters which flow but stay so serene,

And carry the dirt from me far away.

Still through the winter, and curtains drawn

The low lying sun burns on my arm,

And shows skin unclean, and bruises unhealed.

Back on your shores the sun now sits higher,

And your currents still reign, under surface so placid.

I’ll scrub in your waters, and I swear I’ll see God;

But the winter still comes and your ways give me pause.

I’ll open the curtains and let the light in

Though its blinding in the morning, So next spring I’ll stay in.