#WritcoPoemPrompt6

The river that flows down the hill,
Is never able to be a moment still,
The rocks and pebbles at it's an edge,
Lie as steady as the dead.

Their mouth sealed, withholding countless tales,
Maybe a romantic encounter, or maybe the lore of how predators failed.

They sit in the silence, hearing the thunder,
Another god must be angry, who will suffer more now, they wonder.

Would the villagers lose and the river will swallow their treasure?
Will they rescue...