Ode to a River

Cool, rushing river.

How I love you so.

My playground, my pasture of happiness.

Your banks covered with wet rocks, musty grass, and

the occasional dead fish.

Every part of you screams fun.

If I could spend but one more hour along your shimmery banks,

I would spend it on patrol, for a waterlogged toy,

flying through the air.

And when I see said toy, in an arc across

my dear river's rippled surface,

I am blown away by the need

to run, jump, splash and swim.

And landing, graceful, into your blessed, wet, coolness.

I am overcome with the need to chase my toy,

grasp it along with a mouthful of your river bounty,

And return to shore, to do it again.

Times infinity.