Floodplain from Loyalty by The Weather Station

All spring I was driving.
Every river swollen with rain, every stream a torrent.
Over the highway bridges that run high across the plains, flooded.
“Half of the Maritimes,” they say, “is running this way.”

I don’t expect your love to be like mine.
I trust you to know your own mind. As I know mine.

Could it really be so effortless,
all in my sight, many hillsides –
green and black and distant, and rivers serpentine, glinting.

I know there’s so much it just can’t mean – you and me.
Still caught up in heartache and grief.
Yet to come, yet to cease.

I feel like I’m seeing double, all joy and all trouble.
My friends say, “be careful,” or “be gracious,” “glad,” or “thoughtful”;
“don’t move too fast”; “don’t let it pass you by.”

But I don’t expect your love to be like mine.
I trust you to know your own mind. As I know mine.

• Folk
• singer-songwriter
• Toronto