The Rolling River/The Nibble Stream

From humble beginnings in marshy plane,
The waters spring to life joined by the rain;
Casting forth sluggardly, slowly gaining pace,
Droplets come together to begin the race.

Twisting and turning frantically so,
The stream sings aloud, the highs, the lows;
Gushing onward toward a mighty fall,
The rising river does not deter at all.

Crashing down on the dulling rocks,
Churning over once from the shock;
Off again no time to protest,
Off again toward the sea, for final rest.

By Pete Scopes