By the riverbank where the rushes bend low, I linger and ponder the ebb and the flow. The current is laughing, it knows not of haste, Refreshing the spirit and time without waste.

The willows are curling their grace to the ground, A haven for whispers, the softest of sound. In the dance of the shadows, both wild and profound, A story of life in creation is found.

• Willa Cather