I am a river. In my youth I was intense, rapids, white water swirling around hostile rocks, always driving on. Older now, I am deep and shadowed by trees, slow in appearance but that’s deceptive to shallow onlookers. Drop a leaf on my surface and see how strong are my currents. I’m still moving on.
That’s me, a river.
What are you?
That’s beautiful, David.
As for me, I’ve always seen myself as an ocean. Bright and sparkly on the surface, but very few know what’s going on in the depths of me, whether nurturing an impossible species, building a new island, or rumbling up a tsunami.
You are a beautiful deep ocean, Margaret.