The Rock

A rock, rough and rugged.

crashed into a rushing river.

The river pulled back,

waves roiling away from the intruder.

But the river forgave the rock,

wrapped its long blue arms around the newcomer,

hugged it, caressed it, invited it to travel

down to the sea.

The rock hunkered down, dug in its heels,

rejected the river’s invitation to get carried away

into mystery.

So the river did what rivers do. 

It swirled around the obstacle. 

It flowed on, heeding the siren call 

of a distant sea. Eddies

chuckled around the rock’s stubborn immovability,

then melded, blended, danced along with the river.

Time and the river both rolled on.

The rock still squatted in the stream,

defying the irresistible current’s blandishments.

But it had lost its harsh corners, its rough edges,

gentled, smoothed by the river’s patience.

The same rock. 

But not the same rock.

By Jim Taylor, April 2019