Matures Rivers -

Leo nodded, finally understanding. He leaned back against the roots of a bowing willow tree and watched the mature river roll patiently toward the distant, waiting sea. Troubled Waters: A Mississippi River Story

A young boy, Silas's grandson Leo, sat beside him. Leo was full of the restless, bubbling energy of a mountain stream. He threw a stick into the water and frowned when it didn’t instantly zoom away. "Why is it so slow here, Grandpa? Up by the old mill hills, the water flies!" matures rivers

On its banks sat an old fisherman named Silas. He had watched the river for seventy years, and he often thought the river looked exactly how he felt. Leo nodded, finally understanding

"You're not in such a hurry anymore, are you?" Silas murmured, casting his line into a deep, quiet pool formed by a sharp bend. Leo was full of the restless, bubbling energy

Leo looked at the water. He watched a massive, slow-moving eddy gently spin a fallen leaf before sending it on its way down the meander. It didn't look weak; it looked immensely powerful, like a giant taking a slow, steady stride.

"Now, it's mature," Silas said, pointing across the wide expanse of water. "Look at it. Because it slowed down, it has room for the tributaries to join it, making it bigger and stronger than it ever was in the hills. It carries the soil that makes the farmers' fields so green. It has deep, calm places where the big fish can sleep and where we can sit and talk."

The river was no longer the wild, crashing youth it had once been high in the jagged peaks. Back then, it was all fury and foam, cutting a sharp, angry V-shaped valley into the cold stone. It had rushed headlong without looking back, tossing boulders aside like pebbles.