I never thought of it before
How different the sound of the waves
To that transportation which is the river
The endless forward roll
The onrush over boulders and stones
With man made creations for fish to by-pass
Life without time to wait for
A conversation except that
Your friend behind you echoes your every word
Where is your memory; is it in the silt
And the sand of your settled bed
Or is it with birds, fauna, and grazing sheep
Or is it in the visitors, trampling on your every shore
