Rivers Edge Poem by John I Nash

Sparkles of sun shine glistening on the river as it laps the shores edge, moving ever swiftly to I wonder where. Pebbles sitting half buried in the silt, a broken shell or two, reflections of a single Oak leaf look back at me. Little minnows dart in out and about with out a care. A hermit crab digs under a rock to find refuge there. Water grass bent to the rivers will, show direction of flow. Foam churned by the wind blend with the reflection of the sky to form clouds. A hawk screeches above and is captured in the reflection of this masterpiece painted by natures hand. As the water runs up the shore it buries itself and cannot be found, wave after wave are lost to the insatiable ground. Frigid cold water, numbs exploring hands and fingers as to protect anything alive that may linger there. The spray carried by cold wind stings my face, a small price to see Gods grace as given in this place.