The storm is past. Grey clouds, subsiding.
This peace I feel is exciting.
Content with my raft, I set off.
I can't see far but I know the river will guide me
I have to get to the middle so the current will find me.
"Waterfalls are rare,
large rocks, beware,
snakes and bears don't like to share,
and you're never to old to cry."
I make this saying into a song.
I play it over and over as I go along,
I play a game of "What Might Go Wrong".
Like an old Irish pub song, I belt out...
"There isn't a fear to be near,
they're all away from here.
But if I wake up with a wolf upon my back,
there isn't an ear that couldn't hear my screams."
Through the night until sunrise,
then I will find food.