your eyes follow the rushing plashing scrambling of a stream over piled rocks; an infinite hustle often roiling, lathered white and careening reckless over boulders who have seen it all before. here slowing to flow steadily, meandering, complaisant in the conveyance of gravity as it carries the whole waterway over an edge, plunging now to burst into foam against an impassive pool. all urgency dissolves in calm depths. motley pebbles and rocks are more visible in less excitable circulation, hiding still, decorated in soft greens that cling and dance, lilting in a watery breeze. the urgency of water is a tall tale: there is no actual destination, there will be no accomplishing. water stays in motion until there is no longer water, swashing drops into muddy beds, absorbed by greens, splashing from the fray, often drunk by a greedy sun or a needy creature. all along its course the water complies, adjusts, wending and winding and giving in. if your eyes could follow further, you might witness the final freshet out to sea, where stream mingles with salt, joins a tidal rhythm. each insignificant drop flowing through a lifetime, arriving as planned to the eternal ebb and flow, from which it never was apart.