The River That Flows

The river that flows down the hill,
Is never able to be a moment still.
It dances through shadows, glimmers in light,
A tapestry woven, a shimmering sight.

With laughter and whispers, it sings to the trees,
A melody carried by the soft summer breeze.
It carves through the valleys, a pathway so grand,
An artist at work with a gentle hand.

The rocks and pebbles at its edge,
Lie as steady as the dead,
Witnesses to stories, they stand in repose,
Silent sentinels where the river flows.

They watch as the water cascades and swirls,
Twisting and turning, unfurling like pearls.
Each droplet a journey, a tale yet untold,
A journey of time, both timeless and bold.

In spring’s vibrant thaw, the river will rise,
A rushing torrent beneath the wide skies.
It swallows the rain, embraces the storm,
A relentless force, its spirit transforms.

The current grows stronger, a wild, roaring sound,
As life bursts anew from the depths of the ground.
Fish leap in joy, their scales flashing bright,
In the cool, clear waters, a breathtaking sight.

In summer, it slows, a languid embrace,
Reflecting the sun with a tranquil grace.
Children splash joyfully, their laughter takes flight,
As shadows stretch longer, welcoming night.

The banks are adorned with blossoms in bloom,
While fireflies dance in the gathering gloom.
The river, a mirror, holds stories untold,
Of secrets and dreams that in stillness unfold.

Autumn arrives with a fiery display,
Leaves dance in the current, twirling away.
The river, now clad in a cloak of gold,
Carries the stories of seasons grown old.

With each passing current, it gathers the past,
Whispers of summers, of winters long cast.
The echoes of footsteps, of lovers once met,
Flow on with the water, a bittersweet duet.

With winter comes silence, the world wrapped in white,
The river flows softly, a hush in the night.
Beneath icy surfaces, life stirs and dreams,
A secret unfolding in shimmering streams.

The moon...