Old Stream, New Water

 

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The water travels silently today,

The rain filling the cup of the mountainside fully,

But not torrentially.

 

Meanwhile the dead trees line it’s path,

Marking the easy way down,

If not the fastest.

 

To the outsider the scene looks dead,

And the stream old.

Yet each drop of water is new.

 

Renewing each moment and racing to refresh those in need.

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