Softly it drifts.
Hands grazing surface
Breaking the pattern, rhythm, and beat as it shifts.
Do you feel the weight of its life?
Between your toes? Upon your fingertips?
The river gives hope to all who know
Where it runs, where it slips, where it falls,
Where it goes.
But like all creatures that breathe our earths breath,
It must come to an end.
So follow the river,
Where it winds the bend.
And there you will see
Standing at its peak.
A weeping willow tree.