A stick, a stone,nIt's the end of the road,nIt's the rest of a stump,nIt's a little alonennIt's a sliver of glass,nIt is life, it's the sun,nIt is night, it is death,nIt's a gunnnThe foot, the ground,nThe flesh and the bone,nThe beat of the road,nA slingshot's stonennA fish, a flash,nA silvery glow,nA fight, a bet,nThe range of a bownnThe wood of the wind,nThe steps in the hallnA scratch, a lump,nIt is nothing at allnnA spear, a spike,nA point, a nail,nA drip, a drop,nIt's the end of the talennA truckload of bricksnIn the soft morning light,nA shot of a gunnIn the dead of the nightnnA mile, a must,nA thrust, a bump,nIt's a girl, it's a rhyme,nIt's a cold, it's the mumpsnnThe plan of the house,nThe body in bed,nIt's the car that got stuck,nIt's the mud, it's the mudnnAnd the riverbank talksnof the waters of March,nIt's the promise of lifenIt's the joy in your heartnnAfloat, adrift,nA flight, a wing,nA hawk, a quail,nThe promise of springnnThe bed of the well,nThe end of the line,nThe dismay in your face,nIt's a loss, it's a findnnA snake, a stick,nIt is John, it is Joe,nIt's a thorn in your handnand a cut in your toennWell the riverbank talksnof the waters of March,nIt's the promise of lifenIt's the joy in your heartnnA point, a grain,nA bee, a bite,nA blink, a buzzard,nA sudden stroke of nightnnA pin, a needle,nA sting, a pain,nA snail, a riddle,nA wasp, a stainnnA stick, a stone,nThe end of the load,nThe rest of a stump,nA lonesome roadnnAnd the riverbank talksnof the waters of March,nIt's the end of despairnIt's the joy in your heart.nnIt's the joy in your heart.nnIt's the joy in your heart.nnThe foot, the ground,nA stick, a stone,nIt's a hunch, it's a hope