The Brook

We have all travelled far to get here to
this place of straight routes and regimented trees,
this place where you greeted us by
vainly trying to tame our twisting path
with your solid stones placed around and over us.
We laugh at this futility as we flow forward,
while our many mouths froth
chewing on muddy banks
tearing down plants
root by branch by twig.
Our chatter attracts inquisitive beaks
seeking what’s hidden in our silt,
muddying our clear surface
releasing flotsam from its sediment prison
that bobs and clogs as we push it along
that impedes and interferes as we try to wash it aside,
but nothing can stop us,
not even the teasing chill of
winter’s freezing breath.
So we must push on
thank you for listening to
our story, we are sorry
we cannot stop
and listen to yours.