They waded into the creek and began stacking stones, that handful of boys. The friend who’s lived his entire life next to a creek showed them how. He’s a natural engineer. Strategically stacked stones pause the water, holding it back into a rising pool until the never-ending downward tug overcomes and brings it spilling over the rocky dam. It goes from quiet to rushing in that fall, the silent water now flowing, now foaming.
I walk along that creek; I watch it; I learn from it.
I see it.
