Sluggish, gentle and sleepy though it appears
Hidden undercurrents powerfully drag it to the sea
It is always sure of its destination
It is always on course
The River carries life as any living organism
Whilst being controlled by the lie of the land, it also equates control by carving itself into it
People stroll and stop by its side to breakfast and rest, dogs their eager companions
The River slows the heavy pace of people
Forcing gentle introspection as they pause to observe it
By its side they remember
Here they see the images that drove their original ambitions
Here they are stilled
The River beckons them around the next corner
Curiosity and the desire for beauty pulls them ever downstream
Those that sit by its side fill their eyes with changing colours, sound and movement
A bird
A fish
A kayaker sends the wild things darting for cover and safety
Soon the children come out with their parents boisterous and sharp
The single and aged slink back to the safety of the street cafes with their magazines and books, keen to intellectualise
The City Clock calls the Village to action
The River continues oblivious
It cares not at all
It ignores all
A slow meandering slug carving itself into granite and rock
It rises as an awakening god only to remind the people that they are not in control of all things, even though they try their best to prove otherwise
Little Wren 