At the river, I found
the movement I couldn’t see in life.
The sounds and rhythm of a flow
that moves forward without losing its depth,
and sings against the rock and dirt,
regarding them, not as obstructions
but as parts needed to make the music.
Drawing in a long breath,
I imagined the drive home,
and the great sweeping river.
It was then that I decided to concern myself
not with the erosion of soil
or diminishing depths,
but the tunes that are played
until the river is dry.
— ❧ —
Deeper Waters
For more poems inspired by nature, you can jump in here.
