climbing from stone to stone,
we claim the great rock throne
around which the waters rush,

an island in mid-stream,

a place of perfect balance
between movement and stillness,
rootedness and freedom.

stretching out in the sun,
as the great drone of rushing water
sings to our cells,

we have become a mere ornament
of the hour,
an unexpected flourish,

like the spray that catches the sunlight
at the right moment,

a moment of grace
only briefly noted
as the river rushes past us.

~paul ferrini