The river moves
winter    spring   summer  fall
each day new water from the mountains
comes down the streamlets
over the same stones
by the same trees
to the same valley
The river does not rest at night
I stand on the ridge at dawn.
You are somewhere in the valley below.
I sing to the snow falling from the sky.
the river will carry the message
laughing down the mountains
and whisper it
close under your window

By Ron Harton