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The cypress trees that line the river’s banks
Don’t bow like sycophants, but standing tall
Drink deeply from its waters, giving thanks,
Change to a colored ribbon in the fall.
Distinction then is clearly made between
Those favored watered trees and lesser kin.
The river’s snaking path is clearly seen
By pattern of its leafy autumn skin.
The revelation is a doubled truth:
It twists and turns because the tough it shuns.
It seeks an ease as never-ending sleuth,
For low is where the lazy water runs.
The path of least resistance sluggards take
If in their beds they ever stir and wake.
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The photo is mine, of the Guadalupe River in Texas.
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© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2018.
Nice sonnet bard.
Thank you, sir.
Enjoyed both—sonnet and photo.
Thanks. Glad you did.