Feeling for the winds of yore br The old man glanced at the fabulous river. br Sitting under the shades br He screwed up his beard in reflection. br br And it was a silent march of decades, br A parade of seasons upon his chest. br And into the winds and rains of his past br He steered his ferry; memories ever green. br br These banks were his cradle br These waters were his contented life. br From the age of eight to eighty three br This ferry was synonym of his life. br br And across these banks br He ferried his pastures and dreams. br Upon these waters and winds of yore br He left a tale for the passing clouds. br br Within the winds and the winding courses br He met his life with all affections. br Beyond these hamlets, these surging waters br He steered not his ferry and dreams. br br Downstream a mile away br Hammers were already at work- br A dam was coming, br Roots were disappearing.. br br Hamlets began moving upstream, br Houses dismantled, carried upon shoulders. br There- in front of his old courtyard br He sat looking at the disappearing scenes. br br Wooden walls began to creek, br The gambrel roof opened to howling winds. br And listening to the waters of yore br He slowly descended the steps. br br Beyond the endless splash br It was all an open sky. br And within a deepening silence br He left his cradle as a legendary traveler.