A River Runs Through it

Very busy today so quick walk resulted in this photo and this poem.

The River That Meanders

Oh, the river that meanders has an aimless kind of flow…
in the sense that such a river seems to not know where to go.
Is it right or left, or left or right? Who cares? And I don’t know.
Yet it’s that lack of clear direction that the river seems to show!

Oh the river that meanders suggests a valley with low slope,
as it twists and turns and cuts a course that offers little hope
of telling why it went that way… an aquatic king of grope.
For the river, twisty river, looks a bit like some blue rope.

Oh the river that meanders has a kind of strange appeal…
with its artistic looking patterns… but believe me they are real.
Now you may think such rivers with the land have cut a deal,
for they take from one another, but yet they do not steal.

Oh the river that meanders lets you know where it has been
with its separated oxbows and its bank-eroding spin.
Yet that slowly moving river hardly ever makes a din,
and the river is a lifeline for feather, fur, and fin.

Oh you river, twisty river, tell me what will be your fate?
Will you twist yourself apart? Have you ever had a spate?
Those sandbanks on your inside bank don’t care if you are late.
So flow and let flow river, your meanders are just great!

Kenton M. Stewart