The river speaks with an angry voice this morning. It roars; it thunders. Covering highways, houses, fields, and trees, it crashes through the countryside, ruthless and unstoppable. We mere humans must get out of its way or perish.
Most days, the river murmurs, a gentle stream, watering animals and crops. On most days, people enjoy floating its clear waters or camping alongside it in friendly companionship. On most nights, it sings a lullaby to those near-by.
But, this day is not like other days. This day, the river is an ugly stranger. It is threatening; dangerous. This day, it shouts to all in its path to get out of its way.
Hard to believe that the dark, swirling, rumble of rushing water is the same stream we know. But, it is. The river is a liquid storm this morning, unstoppable. We watch and wonder and wait for its fury to subside.
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