I hear the water churning
from my perch upon the hill,
and watch the wheel turning
on the village watermill.

Its constancy is soothing --
nothing interrupts the flow --
the wheel's steady moving
as it laps the stream below.

In pastoral perfection,
there is peace in pulsing sound --
serenity's reflection
as the wheel turns round and round.

Whenever I'm persuaded
to pursue life's hectic pace,
I recall the peace created
by the waterwheel's grace.