Whites Run – II

Seneca Rocks, WV

Rivers and water ways have always been a vital part of the life of all living things. Moments ago, sitting on the bank of a calm, gentle stream, I had become quite accustomed to the droning, rhythmic sound of the falling water.

Leaving the water behind to run its course, the sound began to change. Suddenly, the babble of a small stream had changed to the roar of a larger river. I returned to the water to watch what once were footsteps turn into meager obstacles for an unending flow of energy, force, and life. The sheer spontaneity with which the water ways alter themselves makes clear the infinite power of a single drop of water.

The air too has changed — as though the river were not content to simply flow in her banks — instead, through mists and sprays, the air is filled with the joy that no stream bed can contain. Sing, laugh, rejoice — the rains have come to bring life!

And with the onslaught of more water, much is sent adrift. Sticks, rocks, logs along the shores — they have waited, perhaps for weeks, for the river to carry them onward. With its arrival, these free loading passengers joyously bob over all that is in their path.

I watch from the shores as so many things pass me by and I feel an incredible urge to just leap into the center of the current to see where it would like to take me.

As I walk the sides of this newly formed water course, I come to the junction of still another feeder stream. This, however, has remained unchanged by the rains further away. It’s odd to think that one fork could so dramatically change her character while her sister arms merely smile as they join her.

Whites Run – I

Copyright (C), 1998, by Ashley Guberman

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