“How could drops of water know themselves to be a river?  Yet the river flows on.”

– Antoine de Saint Exupery

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Flowing

A tiny drop of water fell

Into a sparkling summer stream

And rode with joy past rock and stone

And sang the song he’d never learned

Yet knew, because it was the song

Of streams eternally cascading

Through the land to meet the sea.

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A stream flowed gently through the heart

Of meadowland and wooded hill

Collecting rivulets of rain

That tumbled down the mountainside

Where bedrock, motionless refused

To yield and offer up a groove

And still they journeyed on their way.

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A river deep took up each stream

And ran with purpose unified

Of drop and rivulet and stream

In depth and beauty, dark and wide

It carried all the hopes and dreams

Of raindrops hanging in the air

Who longed to reach the oceanside.

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With open arms, the waiting sea

Could hear the rushing rivers flow.

She knew each drop of rain that fell,

The melodies of streams and stones,

The symphony of river song,

The beauty of their longing need

To merge with her, and there abide.

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She swept them up in loving arms

And rocked them gently on her tide.

©Pamela Stead Jones 2010