On mountain trails, the sound of running water
— burbling or rushing —
is a stalwart companion.
Even the rushing water, rushes lazily,
having surrendered to gravity.
Stagnation requiring an act of might —
a Herculean struggle against the flow —
that no drop can muster.
Should an unfortunate splash
spray a drop into a rocky pool,
time will insist it give itself to condensation.
All paths lead to the sea,
but no two paths are the same.