The River

The river takes aim
Sliding slickly through
On its way out to sea
It follows the winding path
As it meanders downhill
Fish along for the ride
They swim valiantly against
The churning waves
Desperate to go upriver
But forced into the slide
The water is pale gray
As it carries silt and sand
Through the shadows
Of large, redwood trees
Old as time itself
Tracing their roots back
To their time in Eden
The river current strong
Its white foam frothy
Clean as the driven snow
Hiding imperfections
The detritus of society
Sunk to its depths
Reborn in the river mud
The soil red like clay
Holding no air in
Yet breathing out in rhythm
Its heart beating in tune
With nature’s lament
The fish at the surface
Their scales bright
Sparkling in the sun
As the river runs.

Sam