Namaste

If this tumbling stream be nameless, I might as well hazard a descriptive guess. Ripple River might do, there are none here to deny my footloose thoughts. Submerged river rocks guide a sun guzzling water through a wooded way. I'm not good at identifying tree's, how they shape themselves means more to me. How old can a little creek be? How to measure the ever changing? If I return to this place by dawn or evening light the name of this stream might alter yet again, the way the light swims renames our memories of it. I prefer pictorial names for all those innate features of a place, the pleasure of naming prospects and vistas gets to be a sacramental act, a way of saying: "Hey, I see you."