Occasionally, as a log drifts downstream

A twigged branch will hook up on its beam

And then the two will float in water together

Becoming one unit and held tight in a tether



And perhaps they will then float for some miles

Tossing and turning in the water together as piles

Of debris and other stuff collects on them in rings

And then the weight of the layers of excess things 



Will become too much for the fragile twigs to take

And they'll break off and the branch will lose its stake

Sailing off downstream well apart and ahead of the log

Eventually tumbling over the waterfall and into a bog



And the log will have been set free to collide into shore

Where it'll then rest in the mud at water's edge evermore

And the debris left on its boughs by the twigged branch

Will grow slowly and then - new life - will take a chance ...



Christopher W. Thomas

3:25pm Friday 1/2/98