There is a peacefulness about a river flowing,
so long as it is content to stay within
its banks and follow its channel downstream.
But when the river swells with water from
heavy rains in the distant hills
from which it winds,
and it escapes the banks that held it,
it grows horns and emits an awful roar,
then exerts its might, pulls all rootless
things within its reach into its frothy,
braiding currents and
pushes untold tons of earth downstream.
And in its roar you can hear a warning:
“Dip your feet in my deep water and
you’ll take your last ride on this big river.”