The River
and the
Willow Tree
First, there was the river.
And the river was strong.
And it flowed through the fertile land.
And time went on.
And the river ran.
Then came the people.
And the people drank the cool water.
And bathed in the shallows.
And hung their wash by the silty shore.
And the river was happy.
And so it ran.
Then came the boats.
The canoes, the barges, the skiffs.
Carrying the people.
Carrying the people’s things.
And the river felt useful.
And so it ran.
Then came the trash.
And the runoff.
And the pollution.
And the things that moved on wheels and rails.
And the river felt lonely.
But still it ran.
Then the people forgot.
Forgot they needed the river.
Forgot they needed its power.
Forgot they needed its peace.
And the earth from which it was born.
And the river began to die.
Then there was a tree.
A willow tree.
First a seedling, then a sapling, then a sturdy trunk with branches that grew over, and roots that grew below.
And the tree grew strong.
And the tree made the river strong.
And the river felt hope.
And so, still, the river ran.
And the people remembered.
And they cleaned, and they cared.
And they splashed in the river’s cool waters.
And they sat under the tree’s shade.
And together, the people, the tree, and the river…
Built something better.
Stronger.
Lasting.
And the river felt peace.
And so it ran.
And the world turned.
And the people stayed.
And the tree grew.
And the river ran.