Convergence of Waters, and Wordplay

There’s a place on the northwest end of the Wolfe Tone Bridge where the canal, cascading down and artificial ledge in a waterfall, slides, perpendicular into the River Corrib. Curious as to what happens when two water sources converge in that manner, I stopped to observe.

As expected, they sparred like two opposing forces, locked in battle.  Some contingents, after the initial collision, retreated, circling back to attempt a fresh assault. Others headed north, looking for a weakness in the line, and finding none, were forced to retreat, regroup, and batter yet again the unwavering wall of convergence.

Occasionally small segments clashed so mightily they were hurled backwards, spinning clockwise in a tiny whirlpool until, dizzy from swirling too quickly, they were obliged to disband.

Eventually, tired from incessant attempts to break through the barrier, they surrendered and allowed the flowing current to carry their weary droplets down the river to the bay, where they could rest, floating gently along the tide.

(Author aside – sounds a lot like life, sometimes, doesn’t it?)

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