Rushing, flowing, curving through the misty mountains,
The river fed the land and the early inhabitants.
In time, the forest fueled a new enterprise,
Logs riding the crest of the rapids–and lodging against the rocks.
Sticks of thunder, carefully set to clear the way,
Burst a new path of turbulent, dangerous pools.
Rushing waterfall on the Pigeon Forge River in the Smoky Mountain National Park near Gatlinburg, Tennessee.
Image © Mark A Phillips
Verse © Mark A Phillips