Zvinyorwa zvakabatanidzwa

Bakhtiyar looked up. "Goodnight, birds," called Bakhtiyar. "Sleep tight." Each one already tucked in for the night. The river slowed, then the river stopped. Not one little ripple. Not one little drop. The whole long river, bank to bank, went smooth and silver, still and blank. Bakhtiyar sat beside the quiet shore and touched the water, just once more. "Goodnight, river," Bakhtiyar said. A tiny ripple bowed its head. The ripple spread, and spread, and spread... then smoothed away and went to bed