Even a mighty river like the Mississippi starts somewhere as a stream. So it must be with stream contributing to a canal as it travels downward or a river. I hear the murmuring water moving swiftly over its rocky bed. Not even fallen limbs of trees slows it down as it moves silt along its path.
Spring showers have given the stream force, as it rushes forward. I imagine there are insects laying eggs under the stones and tadpoles in the shadows of the rocks.
Everything and everyone starts from somewhere. I get to see where this stream starts, on this sunny day.