To Embrace Her Beau

She, born of height, cradled by lofty crest, Mothered by mounts, reared by many a brook, Dancing down sprightly as spring, still modest, Oft hiding hind hillocks in cranny's nook, In no time to resurface once again A new avatar, a wide-mouth waterfall, Cascading down and in utter disdain, Meandering river to be in thrall, And at long last to be an estuary, Sprawling, shallow, wide-mouth and slower still, Destined to embrace sea, fulfilled to be— But O poet, there's option, nor self-will! She's no maid rushing forth to embrace sea, A maiden made O more of poetry. ______________________________________________________ Rivers are painted in fancy by poets, the most common being a bride rushing sprightly down to meet her beau, the sea— gliding over the plain truth: water flows down seeking gravity. ______________________________________________________ Sonnets | 02.02.12 | Topic: river, sea