Little Missouri River in Arkansas

Only the water prevails here,
Sturdy granite splits and slides away,
The sound of tumbling stones
Is as constant as the steady flow,
Strong and icy-cold,
That moves the stones to touch
And when they embrace
A grain of sand is born
To start its journey to the sea.
Blue skies turn gray
And night will take the day,
The flow will ne'er cease.
The bleat of treefrog will conclude
At the edge of dawn,
The river flows, on and on.