Young Rivers


Rivers when they are young are often in a rush and have lots to say–about where they’re from, where they’ve been, who has joined them on their journey. They speak of winter storms snagged on mountaintops and piled in valleys, of endless days of rain and mist. They jump and shout and run all over the place. The trees stand still, watching in wonder as the water tickles their roots.

One thought on “Young Rivers

  1. Change the line breaks and what you have here is a poem. Thanks for the torrent of snow melt lines.

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