River Run
River romances the rock in its path,
flowing around and over, offering
its gifts in season, massage, fragrant bath,
spring lilies from upper reaches, singing
songs and riverine blues and always hoping
for some acknowledgement of faithfulness.
Stolid rock, in defense, never asking
for such attention, remains unmoved, less
concerned with things that flow and things that change,
all offerings its due. Occasionally
in a bemused way, its emotions range
from cool to cold, lets, fractionally,
parts into the flow, hardly noticeable.
Eons pass, rivers path now changeable.
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