The River’s Everlasting Journey By Jim Gandolf

The River's Everlasting Journey 

Poem

From: Jim Gandolf 

©️11012025

From heights unseen, where glacial tears descend,

A silver thread begins, where mountains bend.

A tiny whisper, trickling, cool, and clear,

A newborn brooklet, banishing all fear.

It gathers strength from springs and sudden rains,

And rushes down the slopes and rocky lanes,

Gaining a voice, a vibrant, rushing sound,

As the mountain stream leaps over solid ground.

It leaves the stone, the shadowed, craggy peak,

To thread the valley, humble, mild, and meek.

It slows and deepens, widening its span,

Now a true river, flowing as it can.

Upon its banks, the willows softly lean,

Reflecting skies of blue and mossy green.

The kingfisher darts, a flash of sapphire bright,

The otters play in morning's gentle light.

Beneath the surface, silent, swift, and cold,

The trout and salmon tell their stories old,

Pushing upstream against the current's might,

Driven by ancient instinct, day and night.

It winds past fields where farming folk reside,

A working mirror, where their hopes abide.

It turns the mill wheel, aids the thirsty crops,

Before it meets the towns, where its pace drops.

The bridges arch, where daily traffic flows,

And from its docks, the steady barges go.

It carries whispers of the shores it's passed,

A tireless traveler, ever built to last.

At last, it feels the tide's mysterious pull,

The air grows salty, rich, and beautiful.

Its fresh and mighty waters start to blend,

The long, long journey coming to an end.

Into the estuary, wide and vast,

Its separate identity is overpast.

It pours itself into the boundless sea,

Completing its great cycle, wild and free.

A living pulse from mountain unto shore,

The river flows, and will forevermore.

Jim Gandolf