Flow

When we were young

we flowed

like water,

where it begins.

Catapulting

over rocks,

forcing our way.

Our course,

the path

of no resistance;

being

a part of

spectacular feats.


Now that we

are seasoned,

we flow slow

in a deep pool

with occasional

riffles

to give us

some momentum.

We mingle

with debris

and move on

in lazy swirls,

relaxing

for a while

in the eddies.


copyright 2016

Photo by Mar Startari 2016

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Year Without a Garden

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