When Water Flows

I snapped the photo shared here yesterday evening during a scouting event with my son’s troop. While scout leaders instructed and scouts learned how to tie various knots, I took to dreaming. I’m a far better poet than a scout.

When Waters Flows

Don’t forgo its symphony,
its soft roll, its slide,

cold and white,
over and about

old, green stones
strumming the water’s length

as a bow slowly slips
across its string

or a gentle hand
caresses a harp’s lullaby.

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