A River Runs

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River

The river outside my window is hurrying, scurrying by,

swirling and gurgling and bubbling,  

rushing on watery wings.

 

Onward toward its destination

without a thought or care

for passing shores or meadows green.  

 

Does it ever pause to think,

“Where is my final end?”

Does it ponder o’er and o’er,

“What’s the meaning of this race?”

 

Does it look to right or left

as on fleeting feet it flies?

Does it hear whispers

of rustling leaves on overhanging trees?

 

Does it attend the songbird’s call?

Or hear the lark or wren?

Does it in merry mirth reply,

or does it hasten on?

 

How fleeting this life!

How swift the years!

hurrying, hastening, scurrying on,

with nary a slack or pause or care.

 

Time flies on and on!  

 

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About bjdonaldson

I think of myself as a Renaissance woman with a variety of passions. If you visited me, you might find me hanging out with my husband and children. Our Golden Retriever would be lovingly near. I am a Literacy Coach/Reading Specialist at an elementary school where I provide professional development and coaching to teachers. Formerly, I was a Reading Recovery teacher, an interventionist, and a middle and elementary classroom teacher. Getting up in the morning is not hard; I still love making a difference in the lives of children and teachers.

One response »

  1. This is a very evocative poem about the movement of the river and nature (and how they symbolize time and our lives, of course.) I really liked it, and I think you are very lucky to be able to hear the river from your windows. It must sound beautiful!

    Like

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