A river's voice
depends on her secrets.

When she has nothing to hide,
when the stones at her feet
can almost taste air,
then she is wild and laughing,
chirping to the skies.

When she is quiet,
but not still,
Oh then listen carefully and watch.
Her ripples will tell of the stones and rocks
that guide her on
(or the smoothness will tell of sand)
but she will give little tell
of her depth,
which can change
with hardly a murmur from her waves.

Do not think she cannot be both,
for she often is,
and solace can be sought
from her myriad of tones-
every single one.