Mountain Rivers
By John Herlihy

Rivers always seem to find their own way,
Following their course by the light of day.
At night, the water is guided by the moon,
As lovers caress on its banks in a swoon.
All rivers bubble. mumble, and whisper too,
Secrets an eternity could never fully brew.
I look down on a river from a mountain pass,
As it makes its own journey thru life, alas.
The height gives me perspective to enjoy
The movement of the river and its simple joy.
From the distance, I notice its crooked path,
Cut into the landscape in the wild aftermath
Of its restless pursuit toward its destination,
In the eternal sea lapping the shores of creation.
The river feels enlargement it never earlier knew,
As its eternal flow disappears into an abyss of blue.