In the morning, the river moves slowly.
Mist floats above it,
water flows over rocks.
A bird lands on a branch, watches, then leaves.
The river keeps going.

By noon, sunlight hits the surface.
Reflections flicker.
A leaf drops in and disappears downstream.
Fish swim below, only their shadows seen.

In the afternoon, wind makes ripples.
A dragonfly hovers.
Sticks pass by without direction.
The river doesn’t hurry.

At night, it’s darker.
Still moving.
Still quiet.
No one tells it what to do.
It just keeps going,
whether someone watches
or not.