A Sip of Cooper River Rye

The sounds of children come 
Across the waterway as wafts
Of whiskey brightness from
A taster’s glass; as traffic, drum
Head brushing, beats a soft
And windy rhythmic undertone.
The light is amber in 
Same said glass, lovely coating too,
Paint on trees and on my skin.

See river and her lofty twin?
The latter’s losing blue;
The former’s soon to swim alone.
Moving and moving all
Through the night, she’ll listen not
When star-stilled sky voice calls;
The river will not see them fall.

How strange then to be taught
Here what by stillness can be known,
To taste and see what’s being shown.

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You can listen to me read it here https://soundcloud.com/benwhitepoetry/a-sip-of-cooper-river-rye-m4a