Waters Of March
                          
                               A stick, a stone, it's the end of the road
  It's the rest of a stump, it's a little alone
  It's a sliver of glass, it is life, it's the sun
  It is night, it is death, it's a trap, it's a gun
  The oak when it blooms, a fox in the brush
  A knot in the wood, the song of a thrush
  The wood of the wind, a cliff, a fall
  A scratch, a lump, it is nothing at all
  It's the wind blowing free, it's the end of the slope
  It's a beam it's a void, it's a hunch, it's a hope
  And the river bank talks of the waters of March
  It's the end of the strain
  The joy in your heart
  The foot, the ground, the flesh and the bone
  The beat of the road, a slingshot's stone
  A fish, a flash, a silvery glow
  A fight, a bet the fange of a bow
  The bed of the well, the end of the line
  The dismay in the face, it's a loss, it's a find
  A spear, a spike, a point, a nail
  A drip, a drop, the end of the tale
  A truckload of bricks in the soft morning light
  The sound of a shot in the dead of the night
  A mile, a must, a thrust, a bump,
  It's a girl, it's a rhyme, it's a cold, it's the mumps
  The plan of the house, the body in bed
  And the car that got stuck, it's the mud, it's the mud
  A float, a drift, a flight, a wing
  A hawk, a quail, the promise of spring
  And the river bank talks of the waters of March
  It's the promise of life, it's the joy in your heart
  A stick, a stone, it's the end of the road
  It's the rest of a stump, it's a little alone
  A snake, a stick, it is John, it is Joe
  It's a thorn in your hand and a cut in your toe
  A point, a grain, a bee, a bite
  A blink, a buzzard, a sudden stroke of night
  A pin, a needle, a sting a pain
  A snail, a riddle, a wasp, a stain
  A pass in the mountains, a horse and a mule
  In the distance the shelves rode three shadows of blue
  And the river talks of the waters of March
  It's the promise of life in your heart
  A stick, a stone, the end of the road
  The rest of a stump, a lonesome road
  A sliver of glass, a life, the sun
  A knife, a death, the end of the run
  And the river bank talks of the waters of March
  It's the end of all strain, it's the joy in your heart