The river

Meanders it's way through valleys of green,

The lush forest lazing long fingers into the waters that flow,

Feeding, drawing, living

From the river

That brings them life.

Hillside meadows

And flatland plains

creep up to its edges,

Kissing the shore with the timid touch of a child

First reaching

To touch the wings of a bird

Before it flies away in a startling display of color

And movement.

Overhead, a soft blue sky blankets the scene

With clear light

Delicately diffused amongst a baby soft whisper of clouds

Sleepily breathed across the surface.

Birds dive down into the leaves of the forest,

Joyously abandoning the song of the sky

For the music of the trees.

Chattering,

Twittering,

Rustling,

The sounds of the valley

Teeming with life,

Follow the dancing trail of silver,

Beholden to it forever,

Yet strangely independent of it's gait.

They exist all together

And apart.

The river,

Majestic,

Quiet,

Powerfully silent,

Deceptively tranquil,

Exploding with life

Hidden beneath its softly undulating surface.

It lures the spirit to seek its depths

To be soothed in its cooling, cleansing waters,

To partake

In the breath and water of life,

To be lost

In its perfection

And be restored.

Without reservation or thought

It slips and trips and dances and strolls its winsome way

Across the bosom of the earth,

An artery of light,

Of life

Freed from the heart of the earth

To become its pulse,

Its sustenance

And song.