Mystic waters

There was a perfect, but
perilous and mysterious river
stormy at times, but beautiful
you will say, a pleasant paradise.
And overlooking the opposite side
was a pigeon hole, on the outskirt
of the cascading mountains.
The moonlight with a touch, a caress
nourish it with it gentle rhythm
that sound like trumpets of angels.
The rigorous river waters
makes the air feel restless
while down in the valley, below
pheasants omit soft melodies.
Once the sunlight appears
over the sideboard of the shimmering hills
the mystic waters calm down
after a rough and stormy night
and only then, swallows plunged to drink
giving it a grateful kiss..
I*A*M