A River

It starts with a trickle way up in a hill
Just a small drop little more than a rill
It seeks out the gulleys and cracks in the ground
And begins its long journey all the way down.

There is a short distance where it goes underground
And listening quite closely one can hear the sound
Of the loud rushing sound as one stream joins another
It’s much larger now as it bursts from its cover.

Down it keeps tumbling still fairly small
Till it drops from a cliff in a long waterfall
Where it now joins a much bigger stream and together
They race for the sea as they go hell for leather.

After a few miles the pace slows right down
As the river encircles the outskirts of town
There are men dipping fishing rods hoping for bounty
That flows with this river, the pride of the county.

Miles further on the river seems to stop
There’s a very sharp bend and a deep hillside drop
But after the bend it gets off on its way
Nothing else holds up its progress today.

Other streams will join it as it quickens its pace
Smaller rivers too will join in the race
The mighty thing grows as it travels along
Sometimes it sounds like it’s singing a song.

There’s a very high bridge that carries the trains
That travel along on the networks veins
It has several arches that lift the bridge high
And the river flows through them as it passes on by.

A family of swans with their heads all held high
Their necks long and slender reach up to the sky
They swim along gaily and some ducks join them too
But they stop sometime later as there’s nesting to do.

There’s a place miles along where it goes through the sky
Borne on an aquaduct that creaks with a sigh
Where underneath lorries carry freight to the ports
Vying for space with cars and vans of all sorts.

Many more bridges will it pass on its way
And more roads will cross it in every which way
Till finally the river arrives at the coast
Suddenly small by a much greater host.

In the estuary the river meets up with the sea
When the weather is stormy they crash forcefully
And back in the hills many miles far away
A small drop of water starts the journey again.

©JRW2014

My Little Life

In my little house I live my good life
With my written down words and my beautiful wife.

As the years trundle by and we fight off the ills
I write it all down and keep taking the pills.

I divide my day neatly into eight-hour thirds
Eight of them sleeping, eight on my words.

The remainder I spend entirely with my wife
For without her great love there would be no good life.

Sometimes a thought comes that just makes me cry
I can’t write it down, even hard as I try.

I write all the words that come out of my fingers
And do it real quick while the memory lingers.

Perhaps if someone reads this long after I’m dead
They won’t delve too deeply inside of my head.

But see that with words, my house and my wife
I was really contented with my little life.

©JRW2014