Sitting on a sloping bank,
I watch the rings where pebbles sank.
The water gently trickles down,
Far away from the busy town.
Birds chirp a simple song;
I wonder if this is where I belong.
The hardy grass grows verdantly lush,
Unmarked by any footfall’s crush;
Nature’s pets are living their lives
Free from anger and free from lies…

The distant bridge’s daily sounds
Filter in as I lay on the ground;
Cars’ purr, train’s roar again begin,
And I am reminded of the world I’m in.
Though maybe we haven’t diverged so far
From our beginnings, like this river’s maw:
Even the water mirrors our lives,
Rushing to where some better place lies,
Never resting but burbling along,
Branches and leaves caught up in the throng.

At times, the peaceful lapping and flow
Gently wanders, caring not where it goes.
The river’s balance of rush and rest
Could be a better schedule—the best.
Removed from the city, the world lacks the bounds
That we self-impose, too tightly wound.
If I have the river, I can be at peace,
And if it has me, it has one friend at least.
The birds chirp a simple song;
Yes, this shore is where I belong.