A river, just as time, has to start somewhere and maybe it is in front of us now. |
Dreamy river, which way you flow concealed, Indiscernible with the stillness of the air, And ripples chased by the lightest breath of breeze Belie your intent. Only below, beneath Your quiet surface, is your true course revealed. Far away, on a distant mountain crest Or sage covered prairie, your birthplace where A single drop of rain finds its destiny, A drip, a puddle, a trickle, a stream exploring Each hollow and crevice, seeking unattainable rest. Disdaining decorous shape, your surging swell Grows, rising, strengthening, rushing, supplements Of each gully and ravine quickening The current to marauding pitch, undeniable, Unyielding, nimbly accommodating each travail. Your torrent plummets in cascades where boulders impede Orderly passage, here quickly, there slowly, each spilllway And eddy swirling and gushing in anguished impatience, Single-mindedly driven, plunging in headlong Pursuit to satisfy an ocean's insatiable need. Dreamy river, your tumultuous race to the sea Now adjourned, your waters, deep and settled, have earned This peace. Rest by my shore and warm your body. The glistening sheen of your placid surface sparkles Where your seminal raindrop smiles - and winks at me. rlkilgore |