The impatient river had strained long enough,
To burst through the dam,
Gushing past, abrading boundaries
Scraping bare, green mossy banks
Discarding debris, here and there.
There was a lull,
An almost silent intake of time,
As she surveyed, the futility of
What was washed away, exposing
The raw nature, of what survived.
Muddied waters surged occasionally,
Hiding deep currents,
Over time these too shall settle,
Adding another layer,
To the river’s story
Grass will soon creep over banks,
Hiding turmoil, under a soft green veil;
Wild flowers that sprout here and there
As butterflies and insects flit
Over the tasty tit bits, that muddied waters yield;
The river will flow on.
Anita Atina
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-impatient-river/
