The River By Valerie Bloom
The river's a wanderer,
A nomad, a tramp.
He doesn't choose any one place
To set up his camp.
The river's a winder,
Through valley and hill
He twists and he turns,
He just cannot be still.
The river's a hoarder,
And he buries down deep
Those little treasures
That he wants to keep.
The river's a baby,
He gurgles and hums,
And sounds like he's happily
Sucking his thumbs.
The river's a singer,
As he dances along,
The countryside echoes
The notes of his song.
The river's a monster,
Hungry and vexed,
He's gobbled up trees
And he'll swallow you next.