Tributary

I am a little creek
that winds quickly
down from the mountains.

Downstream is the San Joaquin,
the river that nourished
the land in the days
of old.

Seamlessly I flow
into that river,
that great river
that wanders so slow
through the valley.

You. You are my river,
my San Joaquin.
You absorb me,
a glove on the hand,
magnet and iron,
the part--

that makes the whole.

My question is thus:
Would you still flow
along and nourish
the land without
my humble, tributary
contribution?