Flow
The trembling brook quiets as
it approaches the rippling stream
wary of losing its watery simplicity to the onrush
the broad stream gurgles as it nears the
fearsome white water of a raging river
knows it can never be the same once its tranquility
is churned within the river flood
There are no more lazy plant tendrils draped over brook or stream
no more trout sleeping in shallow pools
and no more buzzing insects to lure their leaps
Soon will be lost the memory of its mountainous origins
or where the sources of life trickle and flow
The river seems eternal and poses as the end of all things
so streams bow humbly to its power, flow obediently
…soon to learn the lesson the river learns as it rushes blindly, humbly
to the sea.