Tubing on the Apple River

The flowing current,
drooped willow boughs,
in distant fields,
black and white cows,
the company
of special friends,
the flowing river
never ends.

Until it flows
into the sea.
In our minds eyes,
just lazily,
we recall times
of floating past
when younger days
their magic cast.

The dragonflies,
gleamed red or blue,
sudden encounter
with stones out of view,
brought laughter
as a bottoms bump,
warned others, steer
around this hump.

Eagle majestic
commands the skies,
we share the awe,
the privilege to our eyes.
Seaweed, tress of myth,
tickles our feet,
and progress, slowed,
is near complete.

We tip our tubes,
reach toes to ground,
pick through stones,
some rough, some round.
A receptive shore,
climb sod or cleft
look back at ripples
we have left.

We'll look back
on this summer day,
when all our plans
just went our way.
and difficulties
seemed to fade,
in the shadow of
this gift God made.