The Stream

​Flowing down along the hill,
right across the street.
A pouring, clacking, familiar sound,
clear and cold, rushing on.
Turbulent here, calm at points.
Where branches and leaves obstruct,
waiting patiently in deeper, wider pools,
for its turn to rush through the narrow gate.
Meandering both right and left,
over rocks and stones, carving earth in bits.
Tumbling, splashing as speed picks up,
then calm again, building strength and force.
Accepting snow and rain from their source,
level waxes and wanes at times, of course.
Weakens and fades, then storm arrives,
providing fresh material again, keeping flow alive.
Joined by other tributaries on the way,
coming together as one, same origin.
Heading onward, propelled by natures law,
the truth of it indisputable.
Potential energy, kinetic now,
meld together, invisible bonds,
with common cause and intent,
to find and join the larger group.
Others found the settling place,
time to move on again, movement and motion.
A river now, big, powerful,
little streams keep feeding bigger ones.
Performing tasks not recognized,
without small contributions the big will not survive.
Give them their due, notice and reflect,
the stream is us, persistent, imperfect.