* * * *

One River, Many Falls

What starts as one
turns into many.

Some with one step,
some with two,
some sloped,
some drop abruptly.

At the base
all are stirred
into a foaming frothy brew.

* * * *

Ragged line
marching slowly
across my open book.
Nature's poetry
in motion.
Small ants
in search of verse.