Time

Young water bounces down the hillside
Spraying over stones, racing downwards,
Joyously playing with gravity, 
Surging, spilling, tumbling, through, around, 
Over, between, anything in its path:
Exuberant in the adventure.

Later, in more tranquil peaceful times,
When gliding becomes the choice movement 
Such lively energy is forgotten.
The inexorable path to the sea 
Becomes the vague purpose now,
With expanding banks and lazy ooze
Taking the place of action. Deep pools
Hold basking fish, swimmers, dragon flies.

The river's slow, sometimes stagnant flow
Lacks power but provides passing beauty.
Light plays games and creates reflections,
Not those of old men but banks, flowers
Trees; nature seen in double vision
Repeating itself for a brief eternity.