The River Poem by Bryan Taplits

The river checked, its bucking back silvery-horned
And, as if a babe, its waters wept and shivered,
Then, righted, thrust forwards, from where it had been borne
A spastic crooning now, with new life embittered.
So agilely apace slithered the river
Gliding in power, as it pushed forth, towards its terminal-re-source,
With a wild, wending of ripples, which bounced in its quiver
It rambled and snaked, probing and fulfilled,
On its wary, predestined course.