The White River at Cotter

The first time I approached you, I heard your voice
A song, sighing in the tones of a cedar flute
You sang to me, and I knew this was home
Since then, every time I near you, I hear your music
Sometimes very soft, but others bright and joyous
When the drought was so bad you were an echo
Barely speaking, more of a memory than an event
But now, with the rain your voice is shining
You sing to the eagles and hawks that fly over you
Caroling in arpeggios through all the upper ranges
You rejoice in your life!
So do I …