Rivers — Matures

It had grown broad and deep, its waters moving with a deliberate, heavy grace. No longer did it try to smash through the earth. Instead, it had learned the art of compromise, gracefully winding and meandering across the landscape in vast, sweeping loops. It carved gentle U-shaped valleys and deposited rich, golden silt along its widening floodplains.

The river was no longer the wild, crashing youth it had once been high in the jagged peaks. Back then, it was all fury and foam, cutting a sharp, angry V-shaped valley into the cold stone. It had rushed headlong without looking back, tossing boulders aside like pebbles. matures rivers

"Now, it's mature," Silas said, pointing across the wide expanse of water. "Look at it. Because it slowed down, it has room for the tributaries to join it, making it bigger and stronger than it ever was in the hills. It carries the soil that makes the farmers' fields so green. It has deep, calm places where the big fish can sleep and where we can sit and talk." It had grown broad and deep, its waters

"You're not in such a hurry anymore, are you?" Silas murmured, casting his line into a deep, quiet pool formed by a sharp bend. It carved gentle U-shaped valleys and deposited rich,

Now, having descended into the wide, flat valley, it had reached its middle course—the age of maturity.