the river

river flowing, tumbling down-

mumbling, rumbling- whispering

of things long since forgotten now, of all the things that you once told me.

stream and creek with water clean, tell me all the words you know

reflected on the rocks, the sand, the tiny fish, the toads.

many times i’ve sat upon a rock and listened to your flowing phrase:

endless words for all to hear and yet you never take a breath-

no other song or poetry can wash such peace across my chest.

i hear your voice from half a mile: gently you call to me-

mumbling, rumbling- whispering,

of all the things that you have seen.