Willows by the river

Supple branches splash;

Wet pebbles glint;

Long lines of willows

Thrust their nets of

Bunting into the glassy stream.

Leaves cascade,

Falling, tumbling,

Turning to sailboats.

A little fleet of silver-green

Drifts away

Down, down the river.

We try to follow, but the willows

Hold us down.

Helpless, we watch through the 

Dense foliage

As our little boats snag on the wind;

They plunge downwards. For a moment,

Ripples spread; then all traces are gone.

And the glass-cold river water keeps on tumbling

As if there were nothing wrong.

Reviews

[Onlyme]

This made me think of children little toy boats playing in a shallow stream. Memories of childhood.