Lazy River
A Poem
This small, lazy river near my home made me think of the popular song “Lazy River,” sung by the Mills Brothers and written by Hoagy Carmichael, Sidney Arodin, which begins:
Up a lazy river by the old mill run
The lazy, lazy river in the noon day sun
Linger in the shade of a kind old tree
Throw away your troubles
Dream a dream with me
Up a lazy river where the robin’s song
Awakes the bright new morning
Where we can move along
Blue skies up above, everyone’s in love
Up a lazy river, how happy you could be
Up a lazy river with me ….
The river is different
more brook than river
narrow and shallow
until another river
merges just downstream.
Its flows steady yet slow
its water mirrors the sun
and between shadowed banks
birds twitter their repertoires
as a gentle breeze
beckons memories of long
gone summer days
made for daydreaming
of love lost and found
of chasing follies
of finding some success
or sometimes failure
whatever it was
no longer matter.
dreams of the good times
familiar laughter
frolicking on a beach
or in the mountains
before a summer storm
darkened the sky and mood
with a cruel reminder
of betrayal and tears
condemned to solitude
by abandonment.
The sun’s reflection
shimmied and swirled
with the water’s flow
lifting the observer’s mood
to contemplate the day
when love blossomed again
bringing balance and peace
to his life and a smile
and song to his lips
which he hummed then sang
about a lazy river.
This beautiful poem has the gentle movement of the river it describes: steady and reflective.
Dear Frederick, what a lovely mix of photo, song and your brook poem. The photo's brook resembles what can be seen in our woods too, although the undergrowth here contains more large ferns. The meeting between water flowing and green plants growing has always held me in thrall. AND inspired some poetry. ---
I very much appreciated the way your quote from the song "Lazy River" met or rather FLOWED into the brook in your poem. You have so well captured the different moods that flows within the observer and then are reflected in the flow of the brook. This is poetry as its best. A mirror, a reflection, an expression of a poet's soul. With love, Maria