This is the grand spring rush, the tumbling of waters
down from the hills, fast and glad, pouring the catch
of rivulets, creeks and streams down, down, down
to the great river, miles below, bringing food
for the beaver and fishes, feeding the brush
and the trees that line the banks, clearing debris
from winter, pushing it ashore. And oh, the song of it!
A purposeful roar, smooth and determined, rolling on
for days. Down. Down. Down.