I wrote a poem.

The rock and the river.

They say that a rock in just the right spot

can change the course of a river.

It’s a nice idea.

Probably gives too much credit to the rock,

but we’ve always got to name a protagonist.

What the river was up to, well,

who can say?

 

This sure seems like an age for rocks in the river.

See that blockhead carrying on over there?

His rhetoric says, I CANNOT BE MOVED,

while the waters tumble him sideways and upside down.

What’s upside-down to a rock anyway?

He might as well go sideways

— who could tell?

So sure he’s moving the water,

but the river was here before him.

It knocks us together in the unlikeliest ways.

 

Still, a little course correction wouldn’t be amiss.

I hunker down in the place I’ve chosen

and hope for the best.

 

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