Poetry flows through me
like the river Arkansas.

Sometimes the river
shallow with sandbars
trickles lazily southward.

I bend down where
the water caresses the sand.

Tadpoles mingle with minnows
swimming in their world
of tiny alcoves.

Silently, many struggle northward
standing still against the flow of water.

Carefully I place sticks and rocks
preserving their playground
for one more day.

Sometimes the river rages
Swollen thick with rain.

Water slaps against the bank
Rushing over the walkway
Leaving strewn debris.

A carpet of sticks now blocks my path
But the river pays no heed.

Onward forward, ever
Southward, toward the Gulf
With crashing speed.

Driftwood cast in goes racing
Bouncing past on waves so deep.

Thoughtful Water, fast or slow
Roaring full or quiet show
River Flow.


(Won Third Place in 2004 Writing Contest - Poetry: Narrative Verse)