An American Journey
The Collected photography, video and writings of Richard Olsenius and Christine Olsenius
Photo Copyright ©2025 Richard Olsenius
Along the East Coast flyways where the wild geese gather, their wings beat ancient rhythms that seem to touch us all. They settle in the shallows with the wind sharp as a knife, a promise of the winter and the turning of life on the Wye, where the river meets the Chesapeake.
BACKWATERS OF THE WYE
©2025 MUSIC AND LYRICS BY RICHARD OLSENIUS
Verse 1
In the backwaters of the Wye, where the reeds lean low,
Past the bend where the old watermen learned to read the flow,
There’s a whisper in the tide, in the mud-soft, fading light —
You can hear a hundred years go by, slipping through the night.
Verse 2
Canvas sails are gone now, but their shadows still remain,
In the heart of every oyster shell and every weathered chain.
Ghosted skiffs and workboats drift in memory’s gentle sway —
Chesapeake keeps hold of them, she never gives them away.
Verse 3
When the East Coast flyways gather, and the wild geese call,
Their wings beat ancient rhythms that seem to touch us all.
They settle in the shallows with the wind sharp as a knife,
A promise of the winter and the turning of the life.
Verse 4
And the marsh breathes out a musty song, where the cattails sigh,
Salt and cold October air beneath a lead-gray sky.
It’s lonely, but it’s holy — no truer place to be —
In the backwaters of the Wye where the river meets the sea.
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