In A River So High

In a river so high,
The moss is alive.
Not caring for a thing
But it's water supply.
'Soon'--It thinks.
'Soon the rain will cease
And I will be no more.
The need for water will wither--
Along with me.'

The moss sits and sits,
Doing nothing more than
It's ancestors did.
Watching the treehopper go
And the deadlock grow.
If the moss could only--
Leave the swamp to live.

But as in truth,
The water ceased
And in a river so high,
The moss--was no more.